Home of the Brave 2
by IVolunteerAsAuthor
Summary: They're all criminals. I feel no pity for the children going into the arena. I'm sure they didn't feel pity as they single handily ruined not only their life but my country. The United States was once a force to be reckoned with, but now due to our youth, we are a lacking stock. I, Ophelia Veyne, President of the USA vow to fix our country.
1. Anonymous

_These words that line these page_

 _All tell stories of where we've been_

 _We've come so far, but the journey repeats_

 _Because ignorance isn't always bliss,_

 _And the past isn't always defeated_

* * *

 **The Narrator**

I should start by saying this is not a happy tale. Often, I've caught myself with tears welling up as I write down the monstrosities that took place in our once great nation, but stories are meant to be told, and so here I am to write it all down.

Humankind has documented their struggles for years. We've seen it from the events like the Civil War, which was a tragic time in American History, to the World Wars.

But I'm here to tell you that things got so much worse.

As humans we allow history to repeat itself, and if this narration can bring an end to this awful cycle, then it has done its purpose. If it were to get out that I was writing this down, I could get whipped and hanged. But in my opinion, the purpose behind this far outweighs the risk. I believe that in my heart of hearts, I will take whatever punishment they can throw at me, as long as people remember.

It's only been a year since everything changed. The United States was a country where people would come to for a fresh start. Chasing the American dream was a phrase that coined itself into time forever, or so it seemed.

The downfall of America happened with a single President. I, as a quiet bystander, watched this all unfold with horror. It all started four years ago with a woman, who in her heart, thought she was doing good. She was passionate about her country, and she wanted nothing more than to make it great. I do believe that. But somewhere deep inside that woman knew, to make an impact you had to make the tough choices. This woman was a monster, and she knew she was a monster. She was a monster seeking justice for her country.

But what started off as a pure intention instead turned to bloodlust, and a desire of power like no other President had ever shown in the history of the country. Her name was Ophelia Veyne. She was the 4th female President the United States had ever seen. She won her election based on vowing to crack down on crime and to get kids back into the seats of the schools. She preached of prison reform and border control. The American people were convinced that Ophelia Veyne was all talk.

I'm here to tell you that she was, but that doesn't mean that she was inactive.

You see, politicians often lie. Ophelia Veyne prided herself on the fact that she held true to everything she said she would. She completed her task to the best of her abilities, and though her ideals were barbaric at best, we did see improvements in places like our prisons and our juvenile detention centers, but it wasn't until the fourth year of her presidency that we, the nation, found out why. That's when that story ends, and the new one begins.

But I'm jumping ahead of myself. This start of this story takes place three years before where I'm writing this currently. I must warn you again; this story is not a happy tale. Though there may be happy moments, and times of great glee, there will also be truly disheartening moments.

I'm going to tell you the story of 24 young prisoners who were forced to fight until one was left standing. I'm going to tell you a story of a President who fell from greatness and into a web of lies that outshined anything she could have possibly done to recover from it. I'm going to tell you the story of a girl who sought to do the impossible. I'm going to tell you about the death of a nation.

I, your narrator, promise that everything I'm going to speak of in this narration happened. I swear by the great nation that I know and love, The United States, that I will be as open and detail oriented as my mind allows me to remember.

I believe that this story is one for the history books, and I'm terribly sad that I have to be the one to write it down. I'm going to bring us back to the end, of what looks like the end, but is only beginning. Because though this story is about Ophelia, it's directly affected by an outspoken little girl who rose to a challenge she knew she couldn't possibly face alone.

The little girl I'm speaking of is Tahan Jacobs, the first official winner of Hunger Games.

 **Well, first of all, I want to say thank you to RedRoses1000. She wrote the first** _ **Home of the Brave**_ **, and because she challenged us to write our versions at the end of her story, here I am! It's a fanfic of a fanfic!**

 **For those that are confused, the last President of the United States, Ophelia Veyne, was tired of the country being "ruined" by teen crime. She decided that it was best to teach the bad kids a lesson. So she came up with the idea of the Hunger Games! It was obviously a secret, because the nation couldn't know quite yet. My story takes off right after the first one. So you'll be subbing me a criminal! Message me if you've any questions!**

 **Tahan was my tribute in the games, and when Rose summarized she placed as the Victor. I was a little bummed not to see her written out all the way, so I decided to do so myself!**

 **The form is on my profile. Keep in mind that there are no careers, no Panem, no anything yet. This story is taking place in America. Also, your tributes are criminals, so make sure that they are realistic crimes for a 12-18-year-old to do!**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	2. Tahan Jacobs

**Tahan Jacobs, 16**

 **Victor of the First Games**

For someone who didn't commit the murder she was framed for, I sure have a knack for actually doing it. The thing with the games is you sit here and you wish that it wasn't the way it was. You tell yourself that you're just doing what you can to survive, that this is something that you were forced into, but that doesn't make the actual act of competing in these any different.

The truth is I'm a monster.

I came into this situation innocent. I didn't have any blood on my hands, maybe a few arrest for underage drinking at a party, but innocent of the crimes that were spoken against me. And now as I stand opposite of the final tribute standing between me and my life, my heart is saddened that it no longer is free of guilt.

"I wish I didn't have to kill you." says the girl from the opposite end of the room. She has dark black hair and long body features. I didn't really talk to her before the initial start to the games but I'm pretty sure her name is Miaya. "You've fought hard just like me." she says with her voice high pitched. She projects herself louder than necessary and stands very still while talking to me. Almost as if she's watching my every move.

"I wish we didn't have to fight either," I say. "My name is Tahan."

"That's a nice name." says the girl very plainly. "My name is Miaya."

"Thank you," I say. "I like your name too."

"Girls, as much as I love this getting to know each other," says the President's voice over the intercom of the abandoned building, "I really don't. I've waited a long time for the final 2 tributes left, and I want to see some bloodshed. Time's wasting."

"May the best girl win." says Miaya as she runs towards me with a great speed. She pulls a weapon out of her jacket pocket that is really interesting. Designed with such efficiency yet all at the same time looking completely effective.

When Miaya gets closer to me, she swings her weapon towards my face. I duck down and use my leg to sideswipe against hers causing her to fall down. She drops her weapon when her body makes impact with the floor, and I kick it away as she fumbles to get up.

"You're making this difficult." she says as she swings her fist towards my face, this time hitting me directly in my eye.

"Funny," I say as I throw my knee up and hit her in the gut. "I was thinking the same thing about you."

Miaya continues to punch at me with a great speed, and I'm left with no other choice but to dodge. When this fight started we were on my side of the room in the abandoned building. Now that we've been moving around we are more towards the exit.

Miaya slows her punches and I was able to get a hit in. She looked at me shocked and then pushed me over, and made a run for the weapon. I jump right back up in a hope to block her from reaching the shiv like object, but she is too quick for me.

Picking up her weapon she turns around and slings it at me. The weapon makes impact with my shoulder and it digs into my skin. I let out a scream as Miaya runs over and tackles me. She pins my good arm down, and then rips the shiv out of my right shoulder. I scream as the sharp object jaggedly escapes my body. Miaya looks down at me with an apologetic look.

"Like I said I wish it didn't have to be this way." she says very softly as she raises the shiv above her head in preparedness to stab me.

"It's okay," I say with tears welling up in my eyes. "I understand. Make it quick please." I say as I close my eyes and tears start rolling down my cheek.

"Open your eyes, you're a warrior, Tahan. Go out like one." she says, and I do.

I watch as she takes a deep breath, and begins to bring the shiv down, when all of a sudden a loud sound, like interference with a speaker, erupts into the room. It hurts my ears, but it really hurt Miaya's as she covers her ears. She falls to the side and let's out a loud scream, and I see this as an opportunity.

I stand up quickly and see that Miaya has dropped the shiv that she was about to stab me with on the ground next to her. I pick up the shiv from the ground and push her over to where she's facing me. The sound finally clicks off and she opens her eyes to see me standing over her.

"I'm so sorry," I say as I bring the shiv down into her throat. Her head tilts to the side, and the life drains from her eyes seconds later.

* * *

 _It's important to note that Tahan has carried the question of why that speaker went off with her to this very day. She is often found in interviews thanking whatever it was that set the speaker off that day. Though she always mentions how sorry she is about Miaya, she is very grateful to still be alive, and she deserves it. It took her a long time to get there. But that again is me jumping ahead of the story and where it is currently. Let's resume._

* * *

I wake up in a white bed, and I'm not sure how or when I got there. The room is lit up with harsh ceramic lighting, and I am in a white and blue hospital gown. My right arm is wrapped up in a bandage and there is a heart monitor next to my bed.

"Hello?" I call out into the room

A lady in a pair of light blue scrubs walks into the room. She is smiling and gives a warm feeling to the otherwise bleak room. She comes to my bed and sits on the end of it. "Hello Tahan," she says. "You're very lucky to be alive. Not many people survive a building exploding, and with no scars too!"

"A building exploding?" I ask confused. "What do you mean?"

"You were found only a few blocks away from an abandoned warehouse by President Veyne herself! She sent you to the hospital immediately, and has signed to pay any and all of your medical bills once we come into contact with your parents.

"Is..is the President here?" I ask shocked. "I-I-I would like to thank her." I say quickly, though honestly I'd much rather stab her in the throat.

"She hasn't left the waiting room the past couple of hours. She asked to see you the moment you woke up. I'll send for her now."

The nurse gets up and leaves the room, though I wish she didn't have to. She closes the door gently behind her, and I'm left in the bleak room by myself again. A couple minutes pass and three men with plain black suits enter into the room, and then nod outside the door to let the President know it was safe to enter.

"Hello Tahan," she says as she sits on the edge of my bed with a cruel smile on her lips.

"How can you smile after what you just put children through?"

"Why're you complaining dear? Did you not participate? Did you not kill 2 _innocent_ girls." she says putting an emphasis on the word innocent and using her fingers as air quotes when talking. "You have been given a second chance my dear. I encourage you not to waste it."

"What's to stop me from telling everyone what you've done?" I ask quickly not wanting to get her lecture on how I need to make my life better. "What's to stop me from coming forward with my story?"

"We have your friends Jeffra and Austin, and have planted a tiny explosive inside the back of their neck. The minute you talk, the minute you even think of speaking those lies against me the explosive will go off, severing the spinal cord."

"You wouldn't."

"I would, Ms. Jacobs." she says standing up and looking at me with an amused grin. "If you can't tell, I have no problem sleeping at night. My mission is pure, and my beliefs are right. You rotten crime ridden youth are ruining this great country, and because of that, I will continue my plight."

"I hate you," I say matter of factly as she gets up and walks back towards the door.

"You can hate me all you want. This time next year, you'll be back in Washington D.C. You'll be helping the new batch of criminals on what to expect when they enter the arena. You can thank Kate for that. I personally think they should wing it like you."

"I'd rather eat glass."

* * *

 _It's important to note that Tahan meant that full-heartedly._

* * *

"Don't tempt me, my dear." says the President as she walks out of the hospital room with a quick and organized pivot on her heel. The door closes loudly behind her, and tears fall down my cheeks. What have I gotten myself into?

 **Hey, guys!**

 **So I decided to do a another chapter. I wanted to see the final battle between Tahan and Miaya because I just feel that's the best thing to do when it comes to summarized stories.**

 **I'd like to take a minute and thank RedRoses1000 for her support on this story. It means more to me than you'll know, friend!**

 **Lastly, if you see italics in the middle of a POV, that's the narrator interrupting if you couldn't tell. They'll be doing that throughout the story because I enjoy it.**

 **Still looking for submissions.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	3. Kate Felix

**Kate Felix, 29**

 **Secretary to President Ophelia Veyne**

It's been a year since the last time I've opened this program. Inside of this system is every criminal in the United States of America, once again, I'm looking for children between the ages of 12 and 18.

I would never say this out loud. She's given me far to many opportunities to say this out loud. However, I hate the President with everything in my being. I supported her campaign because I believed in her vision. I thought that she would make America thrive like it once had. We are not worse than we had been, but the Capitolites party is gaining momentum with every passing day. Victor Mercay and his wife Imogen are always in the press. Re-election season is coming up, and I think that Ophelia is feeling the pressure.

* * *

 _I believe we all know that this story only goes one way. As I sit on the banks of a new state called District 4, I'm left watching as Kate was forced to make all of these choices. Had she known that in just a few short years the Capitol would take over, I doubt she would have been sitting at the computer making all of the arrangements for the second annual Hunger Games._

 _But it's not to go untold, that because Kate did go along with this plan, and because she was so active in her choices, that the Capitol took the idea of the Hunger Games and ran with it. In a way, Kate Felix is responsible for the very idea of what we see as the Hunger Games today. Rumor has it she created an algorithm by the fourth Hunger Games that President Ophelia conducted, and it's still used when the Capitol needs to rig the slip system._

* * *

I get up from the system after finding 18 names. 18 names of criminals that have done atrocious things. And as much as I tell myself that these are bad, irredeemable people, I can't seem to believe it.

I walk out of my office and into the hallway that connects mine and the President's secret room. I knock on the wall, and about 4 seconds later I hear the air leak out from the door, and I push on the wall. Ophelia sits on a couch in the center of the room watching a reality TV show she watches every lunch break.

"Kate, this better be important," she says. "Real Housewives are on."

"I've conducted a list of 18 names, Madame," I say hesitantly. "I brought them to you to look over. Their crimes are recorded with them as well."

"Why only 18?"

"I'm still searching for six more males. None of them seem very...right." I say. "If these are the people going in, I want them to be the worst of the worst."

She takes the list and begins to look at it and smiles. "Paisley Grace, Kate, you're a ballsy woman. That girl has more vindictiveness in her right pinky than even I have. Not to mention that money to have you erased and I wouldn't even know the later." Her eyes widen as she continues to go down the list. "Garrison Upshur!? Like the Garrison Upshur?!" she says excitedly with a squint in her eye. "Kate. You're brilliant."

Funny, I sure don't feel that way.

* * *

 _For the next two years, one of the tributes listed above will be one of Kate's biggest regrets for putting in these games. It's because of that tribute that the first trickle of the Hunger Games becomes a rumor throughout the United States, and it's because of that tribute, that our whole story begins to unfold._

* * *

I walk out of the office and walk down the hall back into my own. I sit down at the desk and begin to intently search for the rest of the males that will be entering these games. I want them to be formidable but not overpowered. When you're mixing male and female criminals, however, it's hard to match that up. Then again, Tahan won.

 **This is just a short little chapter that would put the story on the front page of the Hunger Games fiction. I'm still looking for six more male tributes, as you can see. Would LOVE it if people could submit. I want to get at least the first reaping done by the time my spring break is over. Deadline for submissions will be Saturday 3/18/17**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	4. Paisley and Garrison

**Trigger Warning: Paisley makes comments of killing herself when she gets flustered. More of a dramatic statement than anything. Read with caution.**

 _Dear Reader,_

 _I've contemplated for many days as to if I'd just show you the horrors of what happened over the course of this story. I realized, though, that without a connection to who the tributes were, the impact is much smaller. So with a heavy heart and in remembrance of 23 lives that were not able to live, I'll tell their tales for them._

 _I must say that the more I tell you of this story, the harder it becomes for me to want to keep going, but without further ado:_

 _Prisoner number 99s4322, Paisley Grace, charged with grand larceny. Sentenced to four years in a state prison. Eligible for parole in 2._

* * *

 **Paisley Grace, 18**

 **Southern Tribute**

"I'm sorry," I scream through the glass window that separates me and my lawyer, "Then what the absolute hell do I pay you for?! You told me we would get out of this charge, yet here I am sitting in prison. PRISON. I haven't slept in days. Do you see this, Miles, even my freaking bags have bags!"

"Ms. Grace, we've done everything we can for you. The only thing I can advise you to do is to sit tight and serve your time. They had camera footage-"

"I told you to make that disappear."

"With all due respect, mam. You don't own me."

I raise my eyebrows at the man sitting before me behind a glass window. The man that several days earlier was bowing to every whim I had to make sure I was comfortable in his office. The man that sat there and told me with "one hundred percent confidence" that he would get the charges dropped faster than I could shop in a Micheal Kors store.

And I freaking love Micheal Kors.

"Look," I say trying to work up some fake tears, not that it's fake in a place like this. "I'm sorry. I'm stressed. Some woman asked me to be her girlfriend in here, and someone is telling me that I can't say no, and it's making me have several panic attacks because if I have to be her girlfriend, I might shank _myself._ She doesn't even match her clothes, Miles!" I say with genuine tears running down my cheeks. "She wears plaid shirts _and_ shorts," I say as I slam my head down on the table I'm sitting at, "I don't think I can do this, Miles."

"Ms. Grace." says a guard as he taps on my shoulder. "Your time is up."

"Great, back to my life behind bars and forced slavery!" I scream as I let out a loud wail. People are staring, and quite a few have their phones out, but I don't care. Not anymore. Nothing can be more humiliating than being in a place like this.

"Good luck, Ms. Grace. I'll have my people see if they can find a loophole one more time. If not, I'd just be careful. You don't want to end up in segregation." He nods and stands from the chair behind the window. He puts his blazer back on and walks out the doors.

The doors that I won't see the other side of for two more years, and that's if I don't end up killing someone out of annoyance.

"Presley you stupid bitch!" I scream as I get up from my chair and slam it to the ground. The officers have learned that I don't follow the "no screaming" rule, and it's better for them if they just don't mention it and let me have my meltdown before they continue whatever they were having me do.

"Grace, I know things seem pretty bad, but look at this way." says the guard. "You could be sharing a cell with a murderer or even a rapist. Instead, you have Lopez, and she's about as low on the crime totem pole as you can get."

I look at him with a fake smile. "Thank you, officer." I say as I nod my head. "That makes me feel so much better."

He doesn't notice that I'm being sarcastic as he puts the key in my cell door and it opens. "Just doing my job, Grace," he says with a smile as I walk into the small room and he closes the door behind me.

"How was your visit?!" says Lopez with entirely to much enthusiasm. I haven't bothered to actually learn her first name. We all call each other by last names here anyways. I actually think at this point if I were to call someone by their first name it would be an insult.

I walk over to my bunk and lie down. She's used to me ignoring her by now. I don't do it to be rude, well, that isn't right. On the outside, which I like to call it for dramatic effect, I was placed into this role as a southern belle with lots of enthusiasm. Always smiling and going out of my way for others.

It's nice to not feel that pressure in here, and just get to be the bitch that I've accepted I am.

A piece of paper flies under the door, and I jump. I'm still not used to the prison communication system. In here we aren't allowed to pass notes in between cells, but if you have the resources to get it done, people do it anyway.

Lopez jumps off the top bunk and walks over to the piece of paper. She opens it and frowns upon reading the letter.

"It's for you." she says handing me the sheet of paper.

I open the letter and roll my eyes upon seeing the name at the bottom of the piece of paper. McManus.

 _Dear Babydoll,_

 _I missed you at rec time today. Where were you? You didn't ask my permission to do anything today._

 _Yours forever,_

 _McManus_

I wonder how many times I'd have to cut at my neck with this sheet of paper for it to be an effective way to kill myself at this point. But, if I die in here, Lopez will be the last person I ever see. I'd much rather it be some cute guy at a club.

"Lopez, would you happen to have a pen I can borrow?"

"What's it worth to you?" she asks with a sly grin.

"I'll tell you how my meeting with my lawyer went."

She smiles and reaches into her cleavage and pulls out a black ink pen. I smile graciously, while internally cringing, as I reach for the writing device. I turn the sheet of paper McManus used to write the letter to me over, and flatten it. With careful letters, I write the following message:

 _McManus,_

 _I don't recall going to prison and being regarded as someone's toy. I did not ask you for permission to go to the visiting room because I do NOT have to ask you to do anything. I know this would be hard to understand for someone of your stature who mixes plaids, but, do me a favor, and kiss my ass._

 _With utter disgust,_

 _Paisley Grace_

I fold the letter up and reattach it to the string that McManus sent it from two cells over. I tug on the end of it to let the in between messenger that the letter is reattached and a few seconds later the letter disappears, and I return to my bunk to lay back down.

"She definitely won't like that." says Lopez with a scared look on her face.

"I don't live to please her," I say rolling over and facing the wall. Tears are welling up in my eyes again as I contemplate why this had to happen to me.

"In prison, you sure do, mama," says Lopez quietly. "In prison you sure do."

* * *

 _Though all of these stories are particularly nasty and sad in a way, none of these stories take a more horrific turn than that of the next tribute I'm about to write. You see evil often is something that people argue the inexistence of, but I'm here to let people know that evil is a real thing, and it's taken root in our story in the form of a young man._

 _Prisoner number 980S445, Garrison Upshur. Charged with 15 counts of murder in the 1st degree with 21 more charges pending. Sentenced to death. Seeking final appeal at the time of his kidnapping_

* * *

 **Garrison Upshur, 18**

 **Southern Tribute**

"Hello Garrison." says the therapist for the second time since I've gotten in the room. It's been three months since the first of the charges rang in, and I've yet to say anything to her idiotic self who insisted I come to her every day. I don't know what she's planning on getting from me. I don't plan on answering any questions.

"I'm sorry about the straight jacket," she says as she looks at me with a fake apologetic look. "I just couldn't risk you attacking me again for asking questions to you."

Well, maybe you shouldn't ask me questions.

"I've been reviewing your case file, and one of the things I've noticed is your murders happen in specific cities. Cities with a high economic industry in butchers. Would you care to explain why that is, Garrison?"

The world was built on the foundation of purity and wrecked with the institutionalization of everything we hold dear as a society. People call me everything from a monster to Satan himself, but I see them as the same things.

The earth is turning into nothing and the people that inhabit it treat her with the utmost disrespect.

"Garrison?" says the doctor as she writes on her clipboard. "Is this going to be another session where I talk to you, and you just stare at me."

"I figured you'd get the picture by now, Rebekah," I say with an acidic tone.

She raises her eyebrows. For the first time in the three months that she's been my therapist, she's heard me speak. She quickly looks down at her clipboard and scribbles a note before she looks back up at me with a smile.

"Doctor Nathan is my preferred name, Garrison."

"I didn't ask," I respond. "I figure if I'm going to die I might as well let the world know why I did what I did. What caused me to kill all 36 people that I killed." I say as she stares at me slack jawed. "That's what you want to hear, right Rebekah? You want to hear how I enjoyed watching them squirm as I stabbed them in the stomach. Or how I wanted to bathe in their blood as I celebrated the death of another waste of space on this precious planet."

The scribbling intensifies, I'm sure I'm giving her enough right now to write several papers for a master's program.

"I kill because people deserve it. We live on such a beautiful planet, with tons of beautiful creatures, and instead of taking care of it, we watch it burn to the ground. You see, Rebekah, we are so caught up in our phones. We're caught up in who's wearing the latest designer clothes, or the newest mall that's opening up. People don't realize that we have a limited amount of resources on this earth." I say to her with a smile.

"I helped thin out the over population."

"So you kill to make the earth a better place, Garrison?"

"I kill because I like to kill, Rebekah."

She nods her head and continues to scribble in her notebook. She looks up at me and opens her mouth to speak, but I can tell that she's at a loss for words. I take the time to look around the room. I've made it somewhat of a game to count the different things I can use in the room to kill Doctor Nathan. I came up with 23 different ways yesterday, and the numbers are never the same. I think my favorite one would be using the pens on her desk to make her a pincushion. I think that would be the most painful for her, which would be the most enjoyable for me.

"You want to kill me. Don't you, Garrison?" she ask me staring at me with a suspicious eye.

"I'd want nothing more than to hang you from the ceiling and gut you like they gut the animals in the slaughterhouses, Rebekah."

"Well," she says with a smile. "Soon, you won't have to worry about those things anymore. Your mind will be at rest, and you can finally find peace. You can give back to the earth that you say we take from. Have you thought about the way you wish to be executed?"

"I've given it much thought," I say. "I have killed multiple people, and I look at it as an art form. I've never killed someone the same exact way twice."

"Which is what makes you so different from most serial killers."

"I prefer the term evolutionary correspondent." I say, "But that is beside the point, the state doesn't get creative with its deaths. And it's disappointing. I, myself, like to feel pain. And as I look at the different options laid before me, hanging seems like it would be the most painful. Might as well go out with a bang."

"Yes, well, Mr. Upshur, that's all we have time for today," says Doctor Nathan. "I'll let them know of your choice."

"Rebekah," I say as the guard reenters the room and grabs ahold of me by the back of my straight jacket. "If I were to kill you, I'd make it quick. I wouldn't want you to suffer too long."

"I know that's a compliment coming from you, Garrison."

I smile as the guard leads me out of the room and back into the SEG unit where I'll spend the last few days of my life in isolation

* * *

 **Paisley Grace, 18**

 **Southern Tribute**

"The execution of Garrison Upshur is scheduled for Friday, March 31st, 2052. Authorities say that Upshur has chosen to be hanged as his way to die. His request for his last meal is a salad with no eggs or dressing. Upshur is set to be executed by noon on that day."

It's now recreational time in our cell unit. Which is just an excuse for us inmates to get up out of our cells because no one in here actually exercises. I used to go running before I got in here, but things go to be too much in jail, and plus I'd rather not spend longer than I need to in the showers.

"Sick bastard," says McManus as she comes in the seat next to me and puts her arm around me. "Hey beautiful, why didn't you come and see what I wanted to do today? That letter you sent me last night upset me. I was hoping you were just joking around with me." she says as she grabs the back of my ponytail. "Right?" she says as she pulls down it.

I wince in pain as the sensation of my hair being pulled fills my entire body. I turn around and slap her in the face, and she immediately lets go of my hair and stands up. "Have you lost your mind?" She says. "Let me help you find it," she says with a snark as she attempts to punch me in the face.

I sidestep her punch and scream as I run away towards the other end of the room. She follows me and begins to chase me, laughing as I dodge in between other inmates. I pick up one of the chairs at the lounge tables and throw it behind me. It hits her directly in her face, and she falls to the floor.

A whistle blows and a guard comes running downstairs as McManus gets up from the ground. Her nose is bleeding, and her lips are five times bigger than they were when she first sat next to me only a few moments ago.

"What the hell is going on here?!" says the C.O as he looks back and forth at us. "Grace, did you just throw a chair?!"

'I felt threatened for my life!" I say exasperated. "All the time I have to worry about...this...this incredible hulk coming at me everytime I leave my cell! I just want one day, one damn day, where I can get out of my cell and watch the damn TV without having to worry about getting rubbed up on by some wannabe relevant inmate. Stop trying to act tough, McManus!" I scream in front of everyone in the room. All eyes are on the exchange between the C.O, McManus, and myself. "You're in this place for tax evasions! You act like you're here because you're the freaking Godfather!"

The whole room begins to laugh as McManus turns several shades of red all at once. The C.O rolls his eyes and points to my cell. "Go!" he snaps. "You're lucky I don't send your ass to the hole."

"I appreciate it, sir," I say with an eye roll.

I walk back to my cell, and there are two things that I notice right off the back. The first thing I notice is that the doors open. The cell door is never open, Lopez is incredibly protective of her belongings, and I'm not a fan of having whoever walk through my one place of solitude in this hell hole. The second thing I notice is the scent of perfume that I haven't smelled before. Someone from the outside is currently in my cell.

I walk into the room, and sure enough, there sits a woman in a white sundress. She is of Hispanic descent and is quite beautiful. Upon seeing me, she stands up and smoothes out her dress.

"Hello, Ms. Grace," she says with a slight smile on her face. "My name is Kate Felix. I'm the secretarial assistant to the President of the United States, Ophelia Veyne."

"Pleasure to meet you," I say with a smile. Finally someone of my class level. "It's been so long since I met someone that's above lower class. You'll have to forgive the state of my appearance. We don't have very many options in jail."

"No need to worry about that, Ms. Grace," she says. "I'm here on business. I know that your sister donated a lot of the money your dad left you, correct?"

"Yes," I say blatantly. "Stupid Presley and her stupid missions trips."

"Well, the President feels you weren't given a fair trial due to the fact you didn't have the money to appoint a lawyer not provided by the state. Your sister has been contacted and-"

"I want nothing to do with her," I say.

"She's approved us moving you to a unique experimental prison the President has been working on."

"Oh," I say a little surprised. "So how does this work?"

"You just follow me." she says.

She walks out of the room and towards the exit of the unit. I wave to McManus with a wink as she flips me off. When we reach the door of the unit the gate swings open and Kate leads me down a long hallway. She begins to look around the hall and then pulls out her cellphone and dials a number.

"Coast is clear." she says quickly.

"What do you mean?" I ask confused. "What's going on-"

I'm cut off by two hands grabbing me by my waist, and a black cloth being put over my face. I attempt to scream, but a hand covers my mouth before the scream can escape. I continue to struggle when I feel a prick in the base of my neck. The world begins to spin, and my eyes get heavier and heavier to keep open.

"Sorry, Ms. Grace." says Kate, "If you knew what it was like working with the President you'd understand.

* * *

 **Garrison Upshur, 18**

 **Southern Tribute**

They bring my bowl of salad and slide it into the hole in the door. They treat us like caged animals in here. Every time the door opens, we have to stick our hands through the food slot to be handcuffed. Anytime we need to talk to someone; we have to scream until an officer comes by the door and decides that they want to allow you to speak.

Of course, I don't often speak to the guards, except for the one time I ran out of toilet paper.

Today has been a good morning. Last night as I dreamed, I dreamed of Magan Elouise. She was my first kill, and also my favorite one.

It was the homecoming of my freshman year in high school. My mom had made me go to the dance because she wanted to have some normal memory of me in high school, little did she know I'd give her memories that would live in her head for a lifetime.

Magan was a girl that had a fascination with me. She would always talk to me in classes and try and get me to respond to her flirting, but I'd never take the bait. While I was at the dance, I saw her continue to follow me around the room, until finally I turned around and confronted her. She took my hand and led me into the girl's bathroom, and began to try and kiss me.

I drowned her in the toilet.

How I didn't get caught that night is beyond me. Shows the amount of detective work the police put into their crime scenes, huh?

I've always described killing as an art form, but with Magan, it was like a drug that I took a hit from. I developed an addiction that night that couldn't be quenched. There's nothing like the feeling of your first high as you watch the life leave someone's eyes. Magan was found the next morning by the janitor of the school. After I had drowned her, I carved out her eyes and kept them with me as a souvenir of our time together.

You never forget your first, right?

"Hello?" ask a female voice that makes me perk up a bit in my bed. It's usually all men in the SEG unit, and when I hear the key turn to my cell, I get all the more excited. A young woman stands at the door of my cell in front of the bars. She is wearing a white dress and looks a little frazzled as other inmates call out to her.

"Mr. Upshur?" she asks me.

"Depends on who wants to know."

"My name is Kate Felix; I'm the secretarial assistant to President Ophelia Veyne. I am here to tell you that you'll be transferred to a new prison for your execution, and that move is effective right now." Her voice quivers a bit as she talks to me, and I can tell that she is scared as she stands behind the steel bars that block me from squeezing the life from her pretty little neck.

"Uhm, if you could stand and place your hands where my guards can cuff them?" she says quickly as she backs away from the door. An inmate bangs on one of the doors behind her, and she jumps upon hearing the loud noise. I chuckle to myself as I walk to the front of the cell and stick my hands through the food slot. A guard cuffs me, and I step away from the door like I've been trained to since coming in here.

"Up against the wall, boy." says the guard as I assume the position.

He grabs me by the collar of my jumpsuit and then before I know what's going on there is a black cloth over my face. I begin to struggle and fight the guy off, but there is a tiny prick on my arm, and I start to feel dizzy.

"Drugging inmates now are we?" I ask in a taunting voice. "You don't look like that type, sweetheart," I say as I see the world start to spin. "I can't wait until I get to slit your throat-" and the world goes dark.

* * *

 _The introduction of these two is the beginning of a long process of stories that all intertwine to make one. Though every tribute we hear from is inherently bad people, the fate forced upon them was nothing less than evil._

 _It is with great sadness that I say that this story is not almost over, but only beginning. My humble apologies to anyone who was upset by the encounter with the two tributes you just heard from._

 _But remember, I promised to be as honest as possible._

 _Until we meet again,_

 _Anonymous._

 **I want to thank every person that submitted to my story, and though I wasn't able to chose everyone, it's exciting that I can finally get started. What did you think of these two? Did you like the format? Do I use the narrator too much? *I say hoping that I don't cause quite frankly he isn't going anywhere.***

 **The blog is up as well. PLEASE read it. I worked hella hard on this. It's the best one I've done in my humble opinion. Some of these crimes can be a little touchy, (i.e. there is one that is charged with child pornography, but he was a minor that received a nude picture from a minor and was charged because he had it on his phone when he turned 18.) without giving too much away about the tributes, please no I wouldn't have accepted anything too racy.**

 **Also know the crimes committed are fairly common crimes.**

 **The link is Homeofthebrave2hg . weebly . com**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	5. Ashlynn and Roman

**Trigger warning: Roman is Islamic. There are jokes made against Islam (nothing awful, I promise. More of a taunt really) in his POV. There is also quite a bit of word that I don't use in my everyday life, but Roman does. Also, slight racism.**

 _Dear Reader,_

 _I thought I might see you again. Stories like these, though sad and horrific, are very much enticing and attractive. There's something in every human that looks at something like this and has to relate to it. We see it and think to ourselves "well at least I don't have it that bad," or worse "I thought I was bad."_

 _Whether you read it for justification or encouragement, please remember that these tributes, these children, no matter what side of the tracks they were on,_ _ **were**_ _indeed children. America failed them in the most horrific of ways. These tributes, though some were murderers and it almost makes you justify it in your head, are stripped of every human right. Everything you and I take for granted. Everything that two children between the ages of 12-18 in the new system get stripped of every year for the "Hunger Games" because of this exact tale._

 _Well, not just this particular tale. At this moment we are only in the second year of the reign of tyranny forced upon us by Ophelia Veyne._

 _I want to remind you that this is indeed a real story. That the people you read about on these pages are more than just a character in a story, but they are you. They are me. They are every person that the system has failed and will continue to fail under this new regime. Our third tribute to be introduced seen the chaos before anyone knew there was chaos in the world. The irony of it all? She didn't even mean to find it._

 _Prisoner number 99S439901, Ashlynn Watson. Convicted of hacking into the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Sentenced to 10 years in a federal state prison. Up for parole in 4. She is also on the terror watchlist._

* * *

 **Ashlynn Watson, 15**

 **Southern Tribute**

I learned pretty quickly that blood isn't as thick as water. I don't associate with my family; I haven't for awhile if I'm honest. They are selfish, and they only look out for each other. Each other is meaning the gang. The gang is meaning family.

No, I never willingly joined it, but I was born into it. It's like that thing where you see a religious child that grew up in the church; they never take it quite as seriously as a person that finds it later on in life. It's just something they're used to or something that doesn't intrigue them as much. The gang life was nothing new to me, and for awhile it's all I knew.

But I wanted more.

I had dreams before this. Before a juvenile detention center became my home. I wanted to work for the very people that I hacked, and I was smart enough to do so. My father was so sure it would work. He never asked me for anything before, and stupid me getting sucked into the sudden attention he was giving me, caved and did something I knew to be wrong.

But when the going gets tough, and gavel came crashing down where was he when I was sentenced?

My parents were in and out of jail my whole life. When they weren't in prison, they were plotting things that could very well get them in jail. Texas was a little more lenient with the jail sentences, and truth be told my dad had most of the city and state officials in his pocket. So when he asked me to hack into the FBI data frame to find out where an enemy gang member was being sentenced to, I didn't think any harm would come of it.

I honestly don't believe that the harm was the actual process of hacking the system, but of what I saw. I've been in three fights since coming to jail four months ago, and when I say fights, I mean someone was attacking me, and I was hiding or ducking under something. I don't believe the fights to be random. I'm pretty good at blending in. I can be invisible if I want to.

With the risk of sounding completely paranoid and one of the crack pots on the news, I think the government is trying to hush me up, permanently. I saw a file that was encrypted for the President, but at the time I was hacking I think she was already opening it and it came up. I didn't go looking for it, but I saw everything. The project was called "Operation: Designated Survivor," in it was a list of 24 names, 12 girls, and 12 boys. It was written down as a memo, almost as if she was keeping a memorial of what she was doing.

And it horrified me that this was all going on behind closed doors.

The officers showed up at my door three days later with a swat team, and I was taken into custody. The quizzed me on what I knew, they asked me questions that I didn't know the answers to, and then they, well, some things should be kept a secret, no?

The problem with knowing what goes on behind closed doors is you can never see the person, or people, the same way again. For three days I would say the pledge of allegiance in high school and be frightened of who I was pledging too. For three days, I was constantly looking over my shoulder waiting for someone or something to grab me and make me disappear.

My parents wouldn't have cared. They probably wouldn't have even seen a difference.

I'm in prison only because I know how to lie. "Of course I don't know anything you're talking about!" I said over and over again. After awhile I even started believing it, but they've kept me in SEG for the majority of my stay, so I haven't had the chance to spill the beans to anyone even if I wanted to. I'm not an idiot. I don't want to. I wouldn't wish this knowledge on anyone.

The door to my cell opens, and an officer slides another book into the hole. _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ lands on the floor with a loud thud. I grab it quickly from the ground and open up the book with haste.

"That's the third time you've re-read this series since you've been here, Watson." says the officer. "Don't you get tired of reading the same thing over and over again?"

"A book isn't the same thing over and over again, sir," I say calmly as I flip the first page with excitement. "Each time you read it is a new adventure to be found. A detail you missed the first time, a new development of theory you come up with in your head. It's stepping out of this world and into another." I say, and I start to giggle. I do that when I'm nervous. It's been awhile since I've had a conversation with anyone. "I long to step out of this hell hole," I say.

"Well, it's almost rec time." says the C.O.

"I mean beyond the hour you let us out of our cells each day," I say. "I need adventure. I need imagination. I need-"

"You should have thought about that before you hacked the FBI kid. When I was your age, I didn't even have a computer. Say, how'd you even do that anyways?"

"Some people's gifts lie in languages or music. Mine just happens to be technology."

"Well, you'll never touch it again most likely." says the guard with a laugh. "What a wasted gift, huh?"

"You're a real charmer at parties, aren't you?"

"I'll leave you to read, Watson."

That was a painful conversation, but nonetheless, it was a conversation. Everyone in this cell unit screams when they're flustered. They pass notes back and forth, or they talk across the hall or in between cells, but I just am kind of here.

"Hey! Is that the smart girl?!" says one of the inmates as she walks up to the window in her cell. "Yo! Smart girl, why you in here, sis?"

I merely continue reading and flip the page as she continues to call out to me. Only nine years, seven months, and twenty-two days until I'm free of this depression. If I'm alive at the end of that period that is.

 _In the District I was placed inside in this new city, I've noticed a chain of delusions. The Hunger Games isn't being looked at as a horror filled activity anymore, but people are looking at it as a way to bring pride to a District. District 4 is starting construction on an academy that isn't technically supposed to be allowed, but it's settling the unrest in our District, so they're letting it slide by._

 _Complete and utter unawareness seems to be a common theme in children these days. The idea that we are indeed mortal is something that doesn't appear to click with them very quickly. Life is so short when you're my age, but at the age these tributes from my District, and even the ones in the story, it seems like it drags on forever. That mindset wasn't any different in America. Self-awareness was such a huge burden for our next tribute, in fact, it's why he ended up in this mess in the first place._

 _Prisoner number 88S8451, Roman Darmadi. Charged with assault with intent to do bodily harm, hate crime, and resisting arrest. Convicted on April 23, 2050, of assault with intent to do bodily harm and resisting arrest. Sentenced to 8 years in a federal state prison. Eligible for parole in 6_

* * *

 **Roman Darmadi, 17**

 **Southern Tribute**

I feel my blood boiling over. These ignorant barbarians, if you can even call them that, continually test my patience. I'm just a guy that is trying to get the hell out of this dumpster fire of a system when my parole comes in four years. But if I have to keep popping someone in the fucking mouth every time they want to run it off at me, I don't see that happening.

"Where's your Allah now?" ask my cellmate again. My stuff is all over the floor in our room. The food that I just bought from commissary is dumped out of the packages and stomped on. I was looking forward to those hot Cheetos. "Shouldn't he have been able to stop me from doing all of this? Shouldn't he had come down and pummeled me?" ask my cellmate with a taunting tone. He gets up off the bottom bunk and gets in my face. He stares at me with a smile on this face and bumps his chest into mine.

"I don't want any trouble," I say with a clenched fist as my jaw tightens. I feel as though my temple is about to squeeze out I am clenching so hard.

"What if I do?" he says taunting as he pushes into my chest.

Screw it.

"Listen here motherfucker," I say as I grab him by his shirt collar and slam him into the wall of our cell. I bounce his head off the wall a couple of time before I flip him around and make him face me. "I've no time for your bullshit. Okay? I want to get the fuck out here just as bad as you do. Keep testing me though you'll be getting out a lot sooner than me because you'll be in a body bag. Got it?"

"Yes." he says quickly as I drop his collar and throw him to the floor.

"Good, now go buy me some more hot Cheetos. Now." I say

He gets up and runs out of the room. I look over at the part of the wall that I bounced his head off of a couple of time and frown. There is blood on the wall. Which means there is blood on their face. Which also means that a C.O. will be here in the next 5 minutes maybe.

"Darmadi, what the hell is wrong with Pascal's face?"

Quicker than I anticipated.

"I don't know," I say as I flip my hand into the air in a frustrated fashion. I go to the top bunk in my cell and sit down and look at the ceiling. "I came into the room, and he was slamming his head against the wall. I told him to stop and he wouldn't, so I just let him do it."

"Except his head wasn't bleeding, Darmadi, his neck was. From a scratch mark. Get up you're going to the hole."

"Fuck that!" I hiss. "You've no proof! Not to mention that stupid Italian asshole crushed all my commissary! This is why I requested an Islamic cellmate!"

"All the proof I need is in what you just told me."

"This is discrimination!"

"Save your hate crime speech for someone who cares. Get up, or I'll make you get up."

I look at him with infuriated but don't move from my bed. He comes up next to the top bunk and gets in my face. "Do you hear me inmate?" he screams in my face. "Maybe I should get a little louder for you to understand better. Get the _hell_ out of your bed right now."

I spit in his face, and he looks stunned as he quickly wipes his face off and grabs my leg and yanks me from the top bunk. I land on my free foot and tackle him to the ground. I begin to punch him continuously as he fights me off.

An officer comes into my cell and grabs ahold of me, and I swing my leg in between his legs and hit him in his private area. He screams as he falls to the ground, and I go back to attacking the officer that was on the floor. While I continue to punch the officer on the floor, the other one I kicked in his private area radios for help. The alarm sounds and a slew of C.O.s run into my cell. Three are on me by the time I get to get up and try and defend myself. One takes his baton and slams it on my head. The world goes dizzy as I fall into a haze.

* * *

 **Ashlynn Watson, 15**

 **Southern Tribute**

An inmate next door tried to break the lock in her cell. The alarm has been going off for a good twenty minutes, and I know they have no intent of turning it off anytime soon. They like to punish everyone when one person does something wrong. It makes it, so others don't do the same.

It's hard to read the genius that is Harry Potter all the while listening to a blaring siren fill your ears. I'm rather annoyed too, because I just got to the part in the _Half-Blood Prince_ that brings me to tears, and I was looking forward to enjoying a good cry.

The alarm stops suddenly, and I smile as I crack open the book. The sirens that I heard though are replaced by the sounds of a new racket. The clicking sound of high heels.

I listen to the click as the heels continue to walk down the hall. As I feared the click stopped in front of my cell, and I hear a woman's voice speaking. The girl asks the correction officer if they could open the door, and for some reason, I feel like I know what this is going to be about.

"Are you Ms. Ashlynn Watson?"

"Unless the C.O. lied to you I don't see why I wouldn't be," I say as I close the book. She nods for the C.O. to open the gate, and she walks into my cell and sits on the hard wooden chair they provide us for when we use the desk.

"My name is Kate Felix. I'm the-"

"Secretarial Assistant to the President of the United States, Ophelia Veyne." I say before she can finish. "I know who you are Ms. Felix. Your reputation in my mind proceeds you."

I then realize that in the file that I opened it was the around the same time this last year that Operation: Designated Survivor happened. My heart drops as I look over at her with sadness in my eyes.

"What day is it, Ms. Felix?" I ask her.

"March 5th." she whispers.

"You've come for me haven't you?"

She nods her head with a soft grin and clears her throat. "Yes, the President specifically requested that you ended up on the list this year. I wish that she hadn't. You would have made a great agent, Ms. Watson."

"Can I ask you something?" I say ignoring her comments. "How do you live with yourself?" I ask her as tears are welling up in my eyes. "How do you sit across from me with the look on your face that says business as usual. How can you sleep at night knowing that you're responsible for 23 deaths of children, and after this year that total will be a grand number of 46?"

She looks down at the floor, and I can tell I hit a nerve with her. She quickly wipes her nose and then looks back at me. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen, Ashlynn." she says. "I thought that after the first games, she'd want nothing more to do with this-"

"You call it a game?!" I say outraged I sit up in my chair. "Ms. Felix, you sit here and spout out any reason you want for what you did. The honest truth is that there comes the point where your moral integrity should take the place of everything else. You, Ms. Felix, are just as bad as Veyne, only, in my opinion, you're worse. You _justify_ what you're doing with the fact that you're just following orders. You ought to be ashamed."

Kate looks up at me with tears strolling down her face. Her eyes tell a story of a girl who is desperately lost with no hope of ever finding her way back home, but her actions are only making the map more smeared.

"I know," she whispers quietly as more tears begin to fall. "I know I am an awful person, but there is no turning back now, Ashlynn. I know too much. Just like the minute, you opened up that file so did you. So I'll live with the self-loathing. I'll live with the utter disgust of myself when I look in the mirror, and one day I'll have to look God in the face and explain myself. But that day isn't today."

She wipes her face off and grabs a piece of toilet paper from my dresser and blows her nose. She gets up and looks in the mirror and straightens herself up in the mirror before looking back at me with a newly formed professional look.

"Now, do I have to get the guards to drug you, or can you get up and just follow me?"

"I'll follow you into death row." I say quickly. "But Kate," I tell her as she looks at me with a firm look. "When you do indeed have to answer to God, and you will have to one day, I hope that with all my heart he sees you for the vile creature you are."

She begins to cry again as she walks out of the room and nods to a guard who comes in and ask for my arm. I roll my eyes as he sticks the needle in, and my world quickly starts spinning.

* * *

 **Roman Darmadi, 17**

 **Southern Tribute**

I woke up in the same isolation room they always put me in when I get into trouble. My head has a piercing headache, and my eyes are squinting as they see the light, but I'm okay. I'll always be okay.

I can't help that I get so mad. It's not my fault that I do, I can't help it. It's like one minute I'm totally fine, and then the next second I snap. That C.O. had it coming, though. Apparently what happened was my nail scratched the inmate as I grabbed him by his collar. He was bleeding bad, and his head had a giant bump on it.

The cell door unlocks, and the warden stands in the entrance of my cell with a disappointed look on his face. He holds papers in his hands, and I know what it is. It's more charges that they're going to tack on to my sentence.

"Seriously Darmadi?" he says.

Believe it or not, I always have liked the warden. He's obviously a sell out creep, but he's a sellout creep who cares about us in the detention center, and I appreciate having someone like that in the higher ups. He's firm but fair. It doesn't stop me from being pissed off at the fact that I'm about to get a couple of years tacked on to my sentence.

"So you assault your sister's boyfriend because he's not in your religion and black, and get eight years." he says calmly. "Now, you attack a police officer, and you busted a blood vessel in his eye I might add, and you're going to get another five years potentially. So my question, Roman. Is when does it stop?"

He nods at the guard, and they step into my room with the papers. "You can sit here, and you can fester all you want. You can make bad choices and try to fight anyone who does something wrong to you, but the truth is, Roman, is that one day you're going to have to take responsibility for yourself. It's up to you if you want to do that behind bars, or in the real world. Where you have the potential to get out and live a normal life." he says tossing the papers to me. "I need your signature on this please." he says as I uncap the pen and sign away my parole I was going to get in four years. "I suggest you make wise choices from here on out, Roman. Prison isn't going to be as nice as I am. And you're already going there next year."

He nods, and he leaves the room. The cell door closes behind him, and I hear the click of his dress shoes on the tile as he walks out of the SEG unit.

A few moments later though a new clicking sound begins, as the clicking gets louder and louder as it walks down the hallway, I hear inmates whistling and catcalling, so I don't think the warden is on their way back. I listen to the lock to my cell click open, and standing in front of me is a girl in a bright yellow dress. She's Hispanic, and I don't see why everyone was whistling. She'd maybe be beautiful if she were in a hijab.

"Roman?" she asks me. "May I come in?"

"I suppose."

She looks at the guards and whispers something in their ear. One of them nods and walks off while the other comes into the room with her. I hear the eye flaps of the SEG unit doors closing from the outside as she comes and sits on the wooden chair in the corner of my room.

"Roman, I'm Kate Felix. I'm the secretarial assistant to the President of the United States, Ophelia Veyne. I'm here because you've been selected to participate in a unique new prison system the President has been in the process of creating. It involves inmates who are under the age of 18 and will continue to house the inmates until they are released from their sentence. It's smaller quarters as opposed to this. It also has fewer inmates. We think it'll be better for someone like you in the long haul."

"Yeah, not interested." I say as I turn and face the wall.

She clears her throat, and the guard comes up behind me and sticks something into my arm.

"HEY WHAT THE FUCK MAN!"

Similar to how I felt when the baton struck me on my head, the world starts spinning, but this is more of a psychedelic reaction than that of pain induced one. I fall to the side and watch as Kate Felix stands up from the chair and begins to walk out of my cell. I'm picked up from my bed and thrown over someone's shoulder as they follow her out.

* * *

 _People like Kate Felix are a tricky kind. Their hearts and demeanor almost make you want to root for them. Their personality is sweet and loving, and that's an issue because we associate evil with common attitudes, and mean actions._

 _Sweetheart isn't the equivalent of good. Kate Felix is just as much of a monster as Ophelia Veyne, but like Ashlynn said, she's worse. Because someone who knows what they're doing is wrong, feels awful about it, and continues to do so is a lot worse than someone who does bad and doesn't care if it's right or wrong._

 _At least with Ophelia, she had a reason for her monstrosity. She had something she was fighting for. Kate was just following orders._

 _Until next time,_

 _Anonymous_

* * *

 **These were our next two tributes! What did you think?**

 **Also, for those who did a blog review thanks so much! I loved seeing your opinions. Some were spot on. Some not so much, lol.**

 **Updates may slow down. It's the Saturday of my spring break, and starting Monday I'm back at work and school. So bear with me if there isn't an update every one to two days anymore. Be sure to review, though, gives me the motivation to get the chapters out quickly.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	6. Rhendee and Dominic

_Dear Reader,_

 _I've almost gotten caught with this story as I sat on the beach that I was lucky enough to obtain in the District lines being drawn. I accidentally fell asleep in the sand when a young couple came up to try and get ahold of the journal. I woke up right as they were reading my initial warning to you._

 _You see, dear reader, loose lips sink ships. When asked what my intentions with writing these stories down, I answered with "I'm just writing a fiction book out of boredom.". This story will only see the eyes of you and me until I have the time to spread it accurately._

 _Like I've said, if spreading it means my certain death, then so be it, but you've heard enough about me. Let's introduce the last female southern tribute from the USA Hunger Games._

 _Prisoner number 499s45322. Rhendee Ward. Charged with petty theft and was first sentenced to a month in prison. Two years later was charged with graffiti and vandalism and sentenced to two years in jail. Eligible for parole in a year._

* * *

 **Rhendee Ward, 16**

 **Southern Female**

I have never thought that a life of in and out of jail would be the life that I would have for myself. I have always thought of my life being bigger than the system. Worth something more than just another statistic and a number on an ID.

"Aloha, inmates." says the C.O. as he brings his baton across each of the barred off cells. "Welcome to another beautiful day here at the Honolulu Detention Facility. We are on a tight schedule today, and you all have work duty before your rec time today. So get up, get dressed, and be standing in front of your cell in 20 for your count."

"Yes, sir." we all say as we jump out of bed and begin to get dressed. I like the schedule here. If there's one thing that being incarcerated has taught me is that I like being in a routine. The C.O.s are always cool too unless you give them a reason not to be.

I work in the hair salon of the detention center. As an art person, there isn't a lot of opportunities to get out your creative expression. I mean, you have the rare gift from your parents, and your friends send you colored pencils and other supplies, but your options of what you're allowed to do are severely limited here in prison. So hair is a cool way to express yourself.

I walk down the hall and turn the corner and follow the other group of girls that are part of the hair salon squad. The weird thing about our detention center is it male and female population. We hardly ever mix, but one of the main places we do intermingle is the hair salon. There are even a couple of guys who help out with the hair cuts because "girls don't know how to do guys hair," as we've heard so many times from unpleased customers.

When I arrive in the room, I go over to my assigned chair, chair number 3, and look down at the clipboard that tells me how many appointments I have today. I have a small number of clients today, sitting at just four people. This will be an easy day. The first girl walks in and takes a seat at my chair.

"I want it to be red, with lots of blonde streaks in it. Maybe even a bob?" she says "You know what, just use your imagination."

She just gave me the green light to a world of endless possibilities. I begin to look at my array of colors that I can do to her hair to make it pop more, but then it occurs to me that we are in prison, and if I piss her off I'm probably going to get a beating.

"You promise I can surprise you?" I ask bluntly

"As long as I like it," she says with an innocent smile.

"Cool, so what do you want to be done? Because I am not taking the blame for you hating your hair."

"Fine," she says. "Give me a dark red dye and cut off two inches please."

" _That,"_ I say emphasizing the word. "I can do."

I begin to measure out the hair that I'm going to cut off in my hands as she starts to spout off random information about the different groups in the prison. This is a common practice in my chair. I don't talk; I haven't exactly been involved in a group either, but more of a jack of all trades with the idea that I know what's going on. Information is something I have a lot of. Which is ironic because I do nothing with the information given.

I learn that the drug dealers are still finding ways to get drugs into the detention center, and it's driving the C.O. up the walls because they can't go a couple of days without some kid being spent out on heroin or having withdrawal symptoms.

"Yeah, and I also heard that Mariah and the cute new C.O. is having a thing!" she said

Now this, being as Mariah is my cellmate, I kind of have to step in on. There's not a lot I can do to divulge the rumors, which are true. They totally hook up all the time, but I'm just looking to get my time done and exit this building for the last time.

"I don't know about that," I say casually, Mariah is my cellmate, and I haven't seen anything with the C.O. as of late. He doesn't even come by our cell unit. We have mostly all girls, and if not it's the crusty old man that everyone avoids."

Which me saying is a total lie. He was in our cell unit just this morning waking us up. That doesn't mean that all his dirty business needs to get out there.

Plus, if they do something stupid and she gets pregnant, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out who the father is. It's not like we're allowed to have conjugal visits after all.

"Well, damn." says the girl sadly. "I was looking forward to a little bit of drama."

* * *

 _In the year 2040 of America, a distinguished gang that went by the name El Vatos started taking over the southern ring of the United States. It started off as an all Hispanic gang, but competing with other gangs got difficult, and because of that they started enlisting everyone who would join. This gang became a force to be reckoned with by the time 2050 hit, and by the time Panem took over, the gang was able to organize itself for the Capitol's use and become what we now call Peacekeepers. Our last Southern Tribute was a leader of this gang in a southern part of the state of Florida._

 _Prisoner number 0889S32311 Dominic McKnight. Charged with gang affiliation and assault and battery. Sentenced to two years in a juvenile detention unit. Not eligible for parole._

* * *

 **Dominic McKnight, 18**

 **Southern Male**

I get asked all the time why I joined a gang. If I'm totally honest, I was looking for acceptance. It's not something I grew up with. People underestimate the power of loneliness. They underestimate the idea that being trapped by yourself for extended periods of time can destroy a man. Can make him think weird things.

When I entered middle school, El Vatos saved me. For the first time in my life, I felt the acceptance that I'd been longing for so long. I had friends and people that were genuinely interested in me. I had a purpose in my life other than just going to school, and getting good grades.

If that means that I have to do some things that I'm not proud of, then so be it.

"We have a new order coming in tomorrow," says Squeeze as he slides the mail through the scanner that allows us to see if there are any inappropriate objects inside. We call him squeeze because he's in for murder. He would squeeze their throats until they died. He's also our number one trafficker for El Vatos. We run the mail room, and yeah, we might be a little hypocritical, but the C.O.s are scared to mess with us because they know that we have the biggest gang on the outside.

We also keep the violence down in prison.

"We have a pair of brass knuckles," says Squeeze as he reverses the treadmill that leads the packages into the large mail delivery hamper and then rips it open. Sure enough, there is a huge pair of brass knuckles. The C.O. walks over to the treadmill and rips open the package. Sure enough, a giant pair of brass knuckles sits in the package under a pair of socks.

"Well, they're foolish." says the C.O. looking at the name on the package. He reaches over to his walkie and pulls it up. "Dispatch this is Officer Ruben, inmate Jason Carson needs to be put in the hole. Inmate Jason Carson needs to be put in the hole."

He nods at us and then walks out of the room, and Squeeze and I can talk about the shipment coming in without using codes.

"So what's the inventory?" I ask.

"We've got a few units of marijuana and a bunch of heroine. The next three people on the rotation to sell are Carlo, Andre, and William." I developed a rotation schedule and that way our sellers are always walking around with contraband on them. Only the grunts get to sell the drugs, and since the warden cracked down on them and most of them are in solitary, we have to be careful with how we go about selling from now on.

"Alright, make sure you don't give it to them all at once, and to place the drugs in your cellmate belongings," I tell squeeze as we finish up scanning the last of the letters. "That way if we get caught-"

"The other person takes the fall," says Squeeze with a smile. "Yes, I know the plans, Bato."

"That's why you're my second in command, brother," I say as I shake his hand and then walk off. "Deliver the mail and then meet us in the cafeteria."

When I walk down the hallway, there is a sense of respect from the other inmates. I found a certain level of swagger when I joined El Vatos. My parents didn't understand that I was finally finding a place that I could thrive, that I could call my own. I'm only a few months away from getting parole, and then I am back at El Vatos doing what I do best.

Though my parents are disappointed and unhappy with the way my life is going, I can't help but feel proud of my accomplishments as I rose through the ranks. I never killed anyone. I never did anything unhonorable, well, I mean other than end up here. And if that football jackass didn't come at me the way he did, I wouldn't have to be in there.

"COUNT!" screams the C.O. as soon as I get into the cellblock. "You need to stand outside your cells! Let's go prisoners!"

* * *

 **Rhendee Ward, 16**

 **Southern Female**

"Alright inmates! Time to wake up!" screams the warden as I wake up and throw my feet off the bed. It's a little tricky to get out of bed this morning with all of the clankings of the cells as Officer Heartthrob kept coming into our cell to escort my cellmate to a "meeting."

"Inmate Ward, please walk with me," he says as he bangs up on the cell bars. "You have a visitor."

I squint my eyes out of confusion. I've never had a visitor in all my time here, so the fact that one is sitting there waiting for me right when I wake up is a little unsettling. "I haven't ever had a visitor," I say.

"I don't know why they'd want to meet you either." says the officer. "But you need to come and meet them."

"I don't have a choice?"

"Does it look like you have a choice?" he ask me annoyed.

I walk over to the exit of the cell and wait for him to unlock the gate. When he opens it up, he winks at my cellmate and then grabs me by my arm and begins to walk me to the visitor's section of the jail. When we get to the visitor section I turn to the right expecting him to follow but he yanks me hard to the left, and I wince.

"I didn't tell you to veer, inmate." says the guard annoyed.

"Well, you said I had a visitor," I say. "I just thought that we had, you know, to go to the visiting block," I say sarcastically.

"Listen, you little bitch," he says throwing me against the wall. I hit against the stone blocks hard and let a yelp out, and he quickly takes out his baton. "You think I don't know that you're walking around and talking shit about me? I will not go down for screwing your cellmate. Who do you think is going to believe you, a criminal, over me. Not to mention your visitor won't leave you here very much longer."

"Who is my visitor?" I whisper in fear as he is close to my face.

"My cousin," he says as she grabs me by my arm and continues to lead me towards the cell block G, which is restricted to only the evilest of inmates. When we arrive there and standing in the hall is a Hispanic woman in her late twenties. She is wearing a dark blue dress, and she smiles lightly as she sees me.

"Hello, Rhendee." she says, "My name is Kate Felix. I'm the secretarial assistant to the President of the United States, Ophelia Veyne." she says. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Where do I know you from?"

"You don't, Rhendee," she says matter of factly. "But I know all about you. You're in here for petty theft and vandalism. Tell me, Rhendee, what do you think of why I am here?"

"That's what I'm hoping you're going to explain to me?" I say confused.

"Watch your mouth, inmate." says the C.O. "My cousin worked hard to get where she is in life. You won't disrespect her for anything. You got it-"

"Oscar, that's quite alright. I'll handle my own."

"Sorry," he says bowing his head.

"Now, Rhendee, you're here because the President herself has chosen you for a special prison reform that will put you into your own cell with people that were also selected. You'll stay there until you've served your sentence."

I can't explain what is going on, but I feel something is fishy. There is something about the way she's looking at me, and the meeting in a separate place from normal that sets off all of my red flags.

"Can I decline-"

There is a sharp prick in my neck, and I turn around and see the C.O. smiling at me with a rude grimace. I start to fall backward into a haze when I feel strong arms come in and wrap around me. They lower me down to the ground, and I see that Oscar is smiling wildly at Kate.

"Thanks for taking care of my little problem, Prima," says Oscar

"I didn't do it for you, Oscar. Get her to the van." and the world goes dark.

* * *

 **Dominic McKnight, 18**

 **Southern Tribute**

Carlo was caught with some contraband items during the day. He busted half of our order with one look from the C.O. I'm waiting outside the warden's office to negotiate with him on our situation. I've been sitting here for five minutes waiting, and I'm growing a little frustrated. My time is a valuable thing.

"The warden will see you now." says his assistant as she pokes her head out of the door. I get up and walk into the room and see him sitting at the desk with a bag of drugs on his desk. He looks at me with a sad face as I take a seat and sit down across from him.

"Dominic I must say, this is getting out of hand." he says.

"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about, Warden," I say. "I do know that my boy, Carlo, is currently sitting in the hole waiting for the time to get out. I need him out for certain reasons, and I'm here to ask you nicely one time to allow him out of the hole."

"I don't think I can do that." he says.

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to make a call to my friends on the outside. You know, the ones that are a part of El Vatos, the one that gave me this tattoo." I say as I raise my shirt sleeve and the sign of a lion is on my forearm. "I don't have time to play games."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. McKnight?"

"I guess the only way for you to find out is to not let Carlo out of the hole. You have a daughter right? What's her name? Gabrielle? I would hate to see something happen to her, Warden." I snap. "I'll see Carlo in my cell, and if this happens again, I'll be passing weapons through the mail service."

"I can just take you out of the mail room." he says standing up from his desk.

"I don't think Gabrielle will like that, Mr. Warden."

I walk out of the room as a Hispanic woman is walking to the room. She is carrying a file folder in it, and upon seeing me, she raises her eyebrows and opens up the file. "Are you Dominic McKnight?" she ask me.

"Depends on who wants to know," I say.

"I'm Kate Felix. I'm the secretarial assistant to the President of the United States, Ophelia Veyne. I'm here to talk to the warden and you about moving you to a new prison that the President is doing. It has experimental values in it, and you'd stay there until the end of your sentence."

"I'd rather not bother with it," I say as I walk past her.

She turns to follow me down the hallway. "Mr. McKnight, I am afraid you don't have a choice," she says.

"Bull shit," I say turning to her. "El Vatos stationed me in this place through the court system. I won't worry about being moved into a new system. El Vatos won't stand for it."

"Unfortunately your little boy band doesn't hold much pull against the President of the United States," she says. "Coming here is just a cordial mannerism for your warden. You're moving with or without his permission."

"Listen, lady, I'll tell you again-"

There is a prick in the back of my neck, and I spin around to see a man that is in a black tuxedo standing behind me. He is holding a syringe, and I start to get dizzy as he quickly gets handcuffs on me. I hear the clicking of the lady's high heels as she walks towards me and looks at the guy in the black suit.

"I'll go get these signed by the warden," she says with a quick tone, and walks away from me and the man in the suit.

* * *

 _I've decided that I'm going to start being more secretive with where I'm writing this. I was under the illusion that a common looking person writing on the beach would be a good disguise for a story that could send this country into a tailspin, but even the shore has eyes here in Panem._

 _I hope that you don't take the rest of these stories lightly. For the story you're reading is one of great sadness, and the fact that you're even reading this puts you in great danger. We've gotten a quarter of the way through the tributes, who will we meet next time?_

 _Until then,_

 _Anonymous._

* * *

 **Sorry this is later than I intended it to be. I was busy with school, and then I hurt my neck, and I couldn't hold it in the correct position to type, and now my neck is on fire because I didn't want to go longer than a week without updating.**

 **Rhendee is in the south because it was either that or I didn't get all the west girls. And I liked them. I'm writing about a fictional USA I can make my own :D ok?**

 **Nonetheless, we've completed the southern tributes, and we will be moving on to the next. I'll have a poll on my profile where you can vote for who your favorite tribute is.**

 **Also, Ansley (CreativeAJL) and Jenna (Betttyy) have their own SYOT's that they are trying to fill. Both of which look super promising, and I can say that I've already subbed to both of them! You should too!**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	7. Dianna and Shaun

**Like the narrator is about to explain, I've been incredibly busy.**

 **It's not an excuse for lack of updating, I understand.**

 **The school is a MONSTER!**

 **But I finally got the acceptance letter from my university.**

 **And this semester I'm graduating with my associates.**

 **Praises, am I right?**

 **If you're sensitive to rape,** _ **PLEASE**_ **skip Shaun's POV. I'll summarize for you.**

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _I'm sorry for my recent absence of the story. There has been a lot of trouble going around Panem. One of the most recent developments made by this tyrannical government is the use of random house raids. The Peacekeepers, or El Vatos, are still part of their old habits, and use the moments to steal. They find lots of evidence against people that are found illegally. I've had to start hiding the notebook that I write in, and due to the contents of the pages, have had to hide it well._

 _The spot, which we will leave a mystery, for now, is not of easy access, and it would look suspicious if I were to go to it every day like previously. So I've had to space out my story. No worries dear friends, I still have every intent of letting this story be known._

 _Today we are traveling to an area in America referred to as the "Midwest," Ohio to be specific., where a young princess had to face the bold changes of a class structure when her world came crumbling down._

 _Prisoner number, well, she didn't have time to get a number before all of this happened. Her name is Dianna McKee. At the date of the events, she was being charged with gang-related drug trafficking. She was faced time up to 10 years in a maximum facility prison. She would be eligible for parole in 5. At the end of the trial, she was only sentenced to 3.5 years. Eligible for parole in 1._

* * *

 **Dianna McKee, 18**

 **Midwest Female**

"What the hell, Sophie?" I ask her as I turn around and see the diamond formation that we've walked every day for the past three years disrupted by her walking next to Katrina. "Who said you could fuck up the diamond formation and make this ugly ass lopsided arrowhead?"

"People can't see me when I walk behind you, Di," she says quickly. "I want to be seen."

"It's not like anyone is going to be looking at you when they can be looking at me, you cow," I say. "Get back into the position."

"No." she says annoyed.

There is a silence that erupts in the group. Katrina, Madeline, and Fuchsia all have their eyes wide at the sudden pair of balls Sophie has all of the sudden grown. I walk up to her and look her in the eye. Are noses are practically touching as the whole terminal in the airport has turned to watch what is going to happen next.

"What are you?" I ask her.

"I'm not doing that here." she says defiantly.

"I'll ask again." I say with a cold tone. "Slower this time, so maybe you'll get it through that thick bottle blonde dyed head of yours." I respond. "What. Are. You?" I ask.

"An idiot hooker." she mumbles quietly to me and the others.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I couldn't hear you; this airport is deafening. What did you say?" I ask again.

"An idiot hooker." she says louder this time.

"Louder!" I say again.

"AN IDIOT HOOKER!" she screams.

I smile at her and touch her shoulder. The other girls gather around behind me in the diamond formation expecting to go, but I'm not quite done yet. "What am I?" I ask her with my cold as ice tone.

She bites the inside of her cheeks as she stares at the other girls for any form of assistance. I know they won't budge. How many seniors in high school get the chance to go to fashion week in Milan? And to see one of their friends walk for Gucci at that? No, the little social climbers that I have surrounded me would never.

"You're the queen, Di." she says annoyed.

"Really?" I ask her confused. "I'm the queen? So bow." I say.

"Excuse me?" she asks me confused. "I'm not bowing to you, Dianna. Stop being a bitch. I'll walk in the formation. Let's just board the plane."

"No, bow." I say. "You or bow don't go."

She gets down on her knees slowly, never avoiding my eye contact. When she gets on the floor, she hunches over on the ground and bows. She then gets back up and goes in place behind me in the diamond formation. Multiple people have their phones out and recording us, but I just continue walking past them. When I get to the security gate, they instruct me to walk through the metal detector. I walk through with no problems, but my bag hasn't come out of the machine.

"Who's bag is this?" says the security team at the airport holding up my Micheal Kors purse.

"Mine." I say confused as they begin to walk towards me.

"Mam, I'm going to need you to come with me." says the security member as he grabs ahold of my arm.

"Unhand me!" I say. "Right now! I can't go anywhere. I have a plane to catch."

"Not with these narcotics in your bag you don't." says the security officer as he puts my arms behind my back. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney.."

But the rest of what he says just dims into the background. I watch as my friends all look at each other with shocked expressions. Sophie has a smirk on her face as I'm dragged away by the security officers into the nearest strip search room.

"Get comfortable, little miss." says the officer that walks in minutes later. "You're not going anywhere for awhile."

* * *

 _Our next tribute is a bit controversial. This is my official trigger warning that there may be some things that upset you in the later part of this point of view. There are discussions of rape and the attitude towards it. There are discussions of what it's like to deal with the aftermath from the predator._

 _Prisoner number 99880098, Shaun Lewis. Charged with rape. Sentenced to 20 years in a maximum security prison. Eligible for parole in 13 years_

* * *

 **Shaun Lewis, 18**

 **Midwest Male**

"Hi, my name is Shaun, and I'm a sex addict."

"Hi, Shaun." says the group in unison as the group leader sits with her clipboard on his lap.

"Shaun, last time you were telling us about the night of your incident." they try not to use accusing words like rape, or crime. They like to make us feel like there is hope for recovery. But I'm sitting in the circle knowing that there is no hope for me outside of this prison.

After this prison there isn't going to be any jobs that are barging down any doors to hire a convicted rapist. There aren't going to be any women that line up and want to marry a sex addict who just so happens to be a convicted felon. My life was over the minute I went to that party at 16. No, that wasn't the night of the rape. That was the night I lost my virginity. I would never tell them that though.

The ironic part is that I didn't have a fascination with sex before that night. I didn't think about losing my virginity like at all actually. It was one of those random nights that just happened to start a domino effect of catastrophic events.

"Uh, my incident isn't exactly like you guy's." I say defensively. "I had a lot to drink one night, and then shit happened." I say

The group leader frowns and scribbles notes onto her pad. She continues to look at me though in between the scribbles and refuses to break eye contact other than to do that. "But Shaun, you just said that there was an addiction involved right? Isn't that what you just said?"

"Only because you make us say that before talking." I say defensively.

"That's what you are. That's why you're taking this course." she says calmly.

"No, I'm taking this class because it was court mandated." I say. "I don't know what you're wanting to get from me? Do you want to hear that I don't have any idea where it started? Because I don't know when. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. Apparently, right?" I say with a sarcastic laugh. "I'm spending the next 20 years in a prison. But if I'm going to have a major psychological breakthrough I can promise you it isn't going to be in front of all these people that I don't know. Especially those creeps that did it sober."

"You did the same crime, Shaun."

"Yes, but I was intoxicated. What's their excuse?"

"Shaun, excuses are beyond the point of this exercise. It's to grow and to experience acceptance for our sins." says the woman. "I've helped many people come to terms with who they are, and what they do."

"I don't want to come to terms with that person." I say bitterly.

"Well, that's the problem, Mr. Lewis." she says sadly. "We all have things we need to come to terms with. I just worry that for you, it's going to be in a situation where you're not able to fix it by yourself. That's the importance of this group. You find yourself in a safe environment, and you allow yourself the opportunity to grow."

"Take your growth and shove it." I say as I kick the chair out from under me while standing up. "I'm going back to my cell."

"Mr. Lewis, part of making parole is attending these groups."

"I have thirteen years lady." I say. "I have to spend the better part of my life in here. No amount of group therapy is going to change that.

* * *

 **Dianna McKee, 18**

 **Midwest Female**

"Ms. McKee, by the order invested in me by the great state of Ohio I sentence you to three and a half years in a federal prison." says the judge as he bangs his gavel.

"THEY WERE NOT MY DRUGS!" I scream as the cameras flash and lights shine all around me. "I DIDN'T SMUGGLE DRUGS!"

The bailiff comes up behind me and grabs ahold of my arm. He cuffs my wrist, and I begin to struggle to run towards the judge. I stomp on the bailiff's foot and move towards the justice with my hands cuffed behind my back.

"Judge Eisenhower, please, be reasonable. They weren't mine. I tested negative for the drug test, I have never had any prior records and-"

"Yes, Ms. McKee, your lack of previous records is why I haven't sentenced you to longer. Whether or not the heroine was yours with the intent to sell it, it was still found in your possession. Not only that, it was hidden in the lining of your purse."

"DO YOU THINK I WOULD RIP UP A NEW MICHAEL KORS BAG?!" I scream. "THAT CRAP HASN'T EVEN BEEN RELEASED YET."

The bailiff grabs ahold of my arms again and drags me to the back room that I will wait in until the car that will take me to prison arrives. About three minutes being in the room, there is a knock at the door, and my dad opens it up and hands the bailiff a wad of money to step outside. He and my mother sit in the chairs across from me with sad looks on my face.

"Dianna, we are so sorry." says mom. "All we ever wanted for you, from day one of birth, was for you to have everything you needed."

"You didn't get me out of this mess!" I say slamming my foot into the coffee table that separates us. "I didn't even do anything, and I'm going to prison. What kind of bullshit is this Elvira!?"

"Dianna we worked so hard for you. Your father made a mistake though." says, mom, as she shoots him a glare. "And unfortunately, we all have to make sacrifices for the family."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" I ask my voice getting slower with the realization that my parents are the ones who did this to me sinking deeper into my brain.

"I botched a plastic surgery for one of the big wigs in El Vatos." dad said ashamed. "They brought their wife in for a boob job, and I sneezed in the middle of it. It left a giant scar on her chest. To make up for the surgery, they had to make me a deal. I had to help them."

"Do what?"

"Transfer a supply of heroine." says Dad sadly.

"Dianna, your father and I from a very young age have provided you with everything you needed. You were a horrid and ugly little child. So your dad provided plastic surgery to you at a very young age, making you the beautiful young woman you are today. You were incredibly awkward, so we paid families to inject you into their circle, and from there, your McKee blood took over, and you stomped the rest of the girls out for the leader of that pack."

"What are you talking about?"

"If you try to say that you were framed or give up any details about what we just told you, you'll have nothing to come home to." says dad sourly. "Your life was given to you by us in more than one way. You don't cooperate with us? You get everything stripped away. Good luck finding another person to put up with your sour ass attitude." says dad coldly. "I've arranged for you to take part in a special prison, one that has the President's seal of approval. You'll remain there for the three and a half years," says Dad as he and mom get up and walk out of the room.

I feel as if someone has taken a stone and thrown it at my glass house of an identity. For as long as I could recall, I was the "it girl," the golden star in this drab ass town in Ohio. Suddenly, everything is changing, and not unlike a tropical storm, or a tornado, I am falling into chaos. I begin to breath heavier and heavier as the air that I take into my lungs doesn't seem to be enough. Panic starts to rise in me as I realize that I couldn't even organize myself into a high school girl group by myself without my parents. How am I going to survive prison?!

The door opens, and the bailiff and a prison C.O. walk into the room. I fall into the fetal position and grip ahold of my legs.

"Dianna McKee?" ask the guard.

"I don't know who that is anymore." I say in between shallow, erratic, panic filled breaths.

* * *

 **Shaun Lewis, 18**

 **Midwest Male**

You know, it's almost comical. You spend your whole adolescent life trying to build something palpable for a future, and then all of the sudden one things can come crashing down. Lying in this bunk right now in Cell Block H, I realize that I'm spiraling.

I also realize that I don't mind. And that's terrifying.

I used to wonder what it's like getting to the point of just giving up. What it must feel like to just want for the end to come. What it must have felt like for Leticia after the night that we had. After my incident.

I would never say this in the group. They don't deserve to hear it. But I hate myself for what I did. I know that what I did was bad. I am aware that she was unconscious, but at the time that didn't matter. At the time it was all about the high. All about that moment of the release that was coming.

All about me. And I can't help it. I really can't. Something just takes over me, and I become this different person.

You see, there is a particular pleasure to giving into your desires. No matter how dark or twisted, they may seem. The truth is, we are all just people that are trying to impose our motifs on others selfishly. If we have control, we have everything.

I had to much control over someone else, and not enough of myself.

Prison isn't kind to a rapist. I've been jumped multiple times because of the extent of my crimes. I don't rat. I don't try and avoid the people. I let it happen. Sometimes I even provoke the violence. Because if they accidentally kill me, if I piss them off enough to shank me if I anger them enough to destroy me.

Then I'm free.

Free from this hell hole. Free from my life. Free to face whatever afterlife that is thrown at me. Though because of my life led, I can't imagine it being a good one that follows me.

"Mr. Lewis?" ask a unfamiliar female voice.

A young Hispanic woman walks in wearing a dark red sun dress. She is sporting a pair of brown Greek sandals, and she looks hot. I tense up upon seeing her because my first reaction is to go and try to kiss her.

"Shaun, my name is Kate Felix, I'm the secretarial assistant to President Ophelia Veyne. We have been combing through the prison system looking for candidates for a unique prison program that will be a lot more, uh, hands-on if you will. You were selected."

"Do I have a choice to go?"

"Sadly, no." she says with a less than sad face. "I'll give you a few minutes to gather your-"

I spring across the room and trap her against the wall. I put my arms on either side of her, and she lets out a yelp. I get close to her face and whisper to her. "You know why I'm in here?"

"Yes," she whispers fearfully back.

"Don't tell me what to do then, Felix." I say as I throw her onto the ground and knock my hands against the cell to let them know to come and cuff me. "Let's get a move on hot stuff. I need to get alone asap. Looking at a girl like you just isn't fair in a place like this."

* * *

 _Everyone has their demons. Some of them are more intense than others, and some make people more despicable in our eyes. As a reader, I know you're tempted to look at Shaun, and automatically consider him the vilest and evil tribute that we've met. While some might look at Dianna and see someone who doesn't deserve the fate that she's going to obtain over the course of this game, but I tell you, these two are on equal playing fields as far as morality, and horrendous views are._

 _Some prisoners are just better at concealing._

 _Until next time,_

 _Anonymous_

 **Well, this was long overdue. Like I said...sorry. I'll get better.**

 **Side note: I'm writing a story about my life called "The Suicide Diaries: My 13 Reasons Why Story", It was inspired by the television show, but it tells of a very dark time in my life. I am writing this to not only deal with my issues that I suffered and to try and get to the bottom of it but also if my story can help one person that struggles..well...then my struggle was worth it. I hope that you'd give it a chance. It's so different than what I typically write.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	8. Davantae and Lilianna

_Dear Reader,_

 _I sit here and wonder time and time again if I believe whether this story will do anything. You see, I think that I hold a valuable truth, but I'm starting to question if I feel that I'm capable of making such a difference, to retell history._

 _I wish that I could change what happened. I wish that I could help these children when no one else could. They needed someone to stand up and say that it was wrong, but here I was watching it all unfold._

 _I've pondered with what it would be like to rewrite history. How much would you redo? What is so important that if you were to rewrite time and history, it would change the world?_

 _Our next tribute had that wish. He'd want nothing more than to rewrite the past and make a difference for the better._

 _Prisoner number S9930043 Davantae Jones. Charged with aggravated assault, and to be honest, a lot of other misdemeanors that added up to his charge. Sentenced to 10 years with eligibility for parole in 4._

* * *

 **Davantae Jones, 17**

 **Midwest Male**

I've always had this dream that one day I would wake up in a storm. A storm is an oxymoron because you see, a storm is a creator but also a destroyer. Storms are useful for creating one thing, and that is cleanliness. Hear me out, because I know that sounds ridiculous, but I'm going somewhere with it.

You have a dirty car, and a storm runs through your neighborhood, the car is suddenly clean. You have a dirty driveway, and you don't want to power wash it, and a storm comes? It's clean. Even if it destroys what is dirty, the storm itself is the ultimate cleaner.

It's not a secret I haven't had the best life. In fact, if you looked at my file you'd probably see a lot of storms that forgot they were supposed to clean. My life has been one for the books, you know? One of those hands dealt that you write an autobiography on and get millions or some shit like that.

Because not everyone has a father, who was involved in a child pedophilia ring.

Naw, that isn't why I'm sitting in the Michigan Correctional Detention Center. I'm sitting here because I was stupid enough to drink under the age limit and do something stupid. I trash myself on the daily. We talk about a storm being a destroyer? Man, let me tell you about shitting on yourself because there is no coming back from that. You're forever stuck in a cycle of shit. Because no matter how far you come after you stop trashing yourself, the damage is there. You've created a manmade destruction.

But I was able to come out of my cycle of hating myself, or at least; I did for a period.

My mother was my rock for as long as I could recall. My deadbeat dad is already serving time in the adult version of what I'm currently in. As you can imagine, I wasn't exactly the most popular kid after them other kids at school finding out that my dad was apart of a child sex ring. My mother and I were the butts of endless amounts of jokes. For years, I was fell on my knees crying out to God asking why. Why was I subjected to this? Out of all the people I could have come from, God chose me to go down and be David Jones' son. Wearing a shameful name for the rest of my life.

But the best thing about the eye of a storm is that it eventually ends. And suddenly the worst of what was pouring down on my mother and I turned into a gentle drizzle. My mom got me into sports. She met a man that just happened to also be my football coach, They began to date, and a new life was being created from the storm that I was in.

Coach Griff was one of my favorite people. Suddenly my mother wasn't my only rock. I had someone that would look out for me. Someone that cared about me. Someone that I could look at like my dad, and would treat me like his son.

My life got significantly better, and for once it seemed like the rain that was washing over me wasn't one of destruction, but one of peace, and refreshing. If I were a tree in the ground, it would have given me life. There comes a person every once in awhile that comes along and just changes everything.

When they leave though, especially when you don't expect them to, everything just falls apart.

In a moment everything can change. One minute your life is normal, and the world around you is cheering as you run the ball thirty yards on one play, and then a flash and a bang, a lot like thunder and lighting. The cheers quickly turned to screaming, and the place where my hero stood was empty. Chaos erupted, and I felt overwhelmed by all of the people running around.

As the stands cleared, I walked towards them to see my hero lying in a pool of blood.

But that's still not why I'm here. No, that in itself is a story that is directly, and then all the more indirectly tied to the situation.

"Davantae, these talks only work when you communicate with me," says Amber. She's fresh out of the master's program of the University of Wisconsin for psychology. She's 27, and she has all of these ideas that are supposed to bring me to a higher purpose. Honestly, she's just annoying.

"I told you there is no reason for me to even be here."

"This court order says differently," says Amber as she holds it up waving it around on her clipboard. "Part of your sentence is to talk about your feelings with me. You clearly have some anger issues that you need to work on-"

"Bitch, I told you I ain't even upset! You need to get out of my face and let me just do my time and get the hell out of this place."

"You won't get out of this place without me signing off on your hours. Even if your time is done. You are here for rehabilitation, and so far I haven't seen any from you. You know, eventually, you're going to have to take responsibility for yourself and your actions."

"Why?!" I say snappy. "No one has ever done that for me. My whole life I've been suffering for other people's shit. That's all I've ever had to do. So don't sit there and tell me that I need to fix my shit. I'm a victim of my surroundings."

" _That_ is the most honest thing you've ever said to me," Amber says as she scribbles on her clipboard.

* * *

 _If you've heard the terms a "few screws loose in the head," you've probably met someone a little like our next tribute, she is a vision of bubbly personality and beauty one minute and can change all of it at the drop of a hat._

 _Prisoner number S993005688 Lilianna Marin. Charged with assault with intent to cause bodily harm. Sentenced to five years in a juvenile detention center. Eligible for parole in two and a half._

* * *

 **Lilianna Marin, 15**

 **Midwest Female**

"Hi! Welcome to prison!" I say with a bright smile. "My name is Lily, but we all go by last names here so you can call me Marin. I'm excited to be your tour guide today, so buckle up because we have a lot to cover."

This group of girls, to say the least, are a little frightening. One girl can't be over the age of 13 and has more holes in her face than a piece of swiss cheese. Not to mention the other ones have hella tattoos all over their body, and it's just a tad intimidating.

"So if you follow me this way I can show you to the rec center. This is where all of us gather, and we just have, you know, like, girl time! We can sign up for hair appointments; we can play pool when it's in the season we watch the bachelor on the TV! It's super fun!"

"Do we have, like, pillow fights and like, talk about our feelings too?!" says the 13-year-old with the pierced face. The others laugh, and I turn to a very dark shade of red.

"I mean, sometimes," I say trying to play it off.

"Well, you're just a little too cheery for me," she says as she picks her voice up and walks over to one of the tables. She stands on top of it and raises her voice. "Attention prison. Attention prison. We are in need of a new tour guide who isn't the incarcerated version of Barbie! Any takers?"

The group laughs and begins to hoot and holler, and I start to clench my fist tightly. I clench down on my teeth and with my left hand reach up to the table and grab ahold of her leg. I pull her down from the table, and she falls onto her back from the tug.

"What the hell!" screams the 13-year-old.

"Maybe if you weren't decked out in piercings from head to toe you wouldn't feel the need to try and express the confidence you wish you felt," I say

"You don't know anything about me," she says.

"You don't know anything about me either," I say as I unclench my fist, I look down. There are blood stains from the fingernails digging into my hands. "I'm not in here for anything little sweetheart. I'm not here to mess around either. So you can choose to not be a little diva, or you can get hurt."

"Okay, I'll follow." says the girl with all the holes. "What's next."

"The cafeteria!" I say with a bright smile. "It's where we get to eat and then of course socialize!"

The rest of the group is staring at me with silent fear in their eyes as I begin to usher them back into the mob that they were standing in.

"Don't just stand there, Y'all!" I say with a smile. "Get your rear into gear! Let's go!"

We walk down the hallway and smile as we walk by the CO officers and the prisoner's therapy sessions. "To the left, you'll see the office of the psychologist on site 24/7. His name is Mr. Minx, and he is an excellent therapist. He sits with you and tries to understand you. He's the best part of this prison to be honest." as we make it further down the hallway we walk into the cafeteria where the first session of girls is already seated and eating.

"We are divided into groups, and we eat at the same time every day. They have to do it this way because we are a co-ed prison, and there was a little problem with letting the boys and girls interact if you know what I mean." I say with a joke. "We ended up with a pregnancy rate that was through the roof."

"So we won't even get to see boys while we are in here?" ask the girl that stands in the back with a disappointed look on her face.

"Well," I say with a small grin. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten sent to prison.

* * *

 **Kate Felix, 29**

 **Secretary to President Ophelia Veyne**

Ophelia is really on one of her tirades today. I cannot stand working for this woman, but let's be real, it's not like there are a lot of job openings for Latina women in the field that I'm in. Working for this woman is a terror and drag, but it pays the bills, and Mama is always telling me that I won't find anything better.

Because the idea of me being fruitful and influential is such a crazy thing to my Mama.

"Right this way, Ms. Felix." says the CO as he leads me into a room. As I walk into the room, Davantae Jones and Lilianna Marin sit in chairs opposite of each other across a table. Their faces have a look of confusion as I walk in and sit at the head of the table.

"Look, I've had a crappy day, so I don't have time to sit here and answer all your questions. I have a date with a bottle of tequila. Anyway, long story short, you're being transferred to a prison that has a personal experimental side to that the president has designed to have a more intense form of rehabilitation. No, you can't object. No, you can't fight it. It's happening no matter what."

"Lady I ain't going nowhere," says Davantae as he holds his hand up in defense. "You gotta be all kinds of messed up in that pretty little head of yours if you expect me to follow you."

"Listen here you little shit," I say as I stand up and lean across the table. "You're seriously the last thing that I want to deal with on a day like today. So let's make one thing clear. You are one step away from being slapped so hard that your grandchildren will come out with a handprint across their faces. I suggest you shut up and cooperate."

"You clearly aren't the only one with anger issues then, Davantae," says Lilianna. "Hi, my name is Lily, but I bet you already know that."

"Well aren't you just the smartest," I say with a scowl on my face.

"Some people might believe that," she says with an indifferent look. "I don't quite see it."

"Look, as much as I'd love just to sit around and have witty exchanges of banter back and forth, I have a plain to catch. I have to be in Kansas by tomorrow morning, and it's currently an hour until midnight. That tequila in my limo is also still calling my name. CO drug them." I say waving my hand as I get up from the table.

"The fuck?!" says the very crude young man as he jumps up and avoids the needle. He makes a break for the door, but I stick my foot out and watch as he falls face first into the ground.

"If you want something done right, you need to do it yourself," I say while rolling my eyes and taking a syringe out of my cleavage and sticking it in his neck. He struggles as he tries to crawl forward, but I kick him in the stomach, and then he passes out from the drugs. "Seriously?" I ask looking at the CO. "You had one job."

"The girl was easy! You shouldn't have been so open with what was about to happen!"

"Well, maybe if you were half the man you claim to be you'd be able to stop a scrawny 17-year-old boy from dodging out on you," I say with a snark in my voice. "Pick them up and load them into the van. They're expected in the community."

I strut down the hallway and walk towards the exit of the prison. When I walk down the steps, I load into the limo and begin the drive to the airport.

"Ms. Felix, have I told you that I find you to look beautiful today?" ask the driver as I buckle my seatbelt and lean my head against the back of the seat.

"Please, Harold," I say holding up my hand. "Don't try to steal a Ferrari if you aren't sure how to drive it." I lean over and grab the bottle of tequila from the ice that is next to my seat and open it up. "Bottoms up," I say as I take the first swig.

* * *

 _I've always believed that if I could, I would rewrite the history of what happened to 23 of these children. I would love for them to get the chance at the life they never had and would love for them to experience the joys and the pains of experiencing life outside of prison. But once history is written, it's forever. After it's written all we can do is our best to avoid it._ _That's why I continue to write these horrors down._

 _We've much more to discuss,_

 _Anonymous_

* * *

 **Well, I'm back! This is incredibly late, and I am SO sorry. Life has been so hectic, and I've been so busy with school. It's all just been a little much…**

 **BUT I PROMISE I AM GOING TO FINISH. Not that I feel like I have to promise that at this point. I think my resume speaks for itself. :D Thanks for reading.**

 **DaughterofTigress is doing an SYOT, and you should submit! She's great; you're a genius, make a great/genius tribute TOGETHER! Also, the love of my life, Jenna, you probably have seen her around right? Anyway, she is doing a story, and it's pretty dang bomb! You should check it out.**

 **What did you think of these two?**

 **Are you excited to see an update?**

 **Have you lost interest? Sorry fi this chapter sucks...I'm a bit out of practice.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	9. Aubrey and Marshall

**Hello, my Sweet Baby Angel faces.**

 **Yes, here I am. Back to updating because, you know, you're worth it.**

 **Just so you know, in what I call the great update outage of 2017, I updated once before.**

 **Trigger Warning: Mention of rape and the aftermath of such. (Aubrey's POV)**

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _I've been surrounded by secular and shallow people in the district that they've placed me. It seems that the people here are all very tanned, blonde hair, gorgeous complexions. As we talk in passing, I hear a lot of them say they're from California._

 _The Capitol as they call themselves encourage this behavior. They make us want more, and more, and we can never get any of it. Because they are the elite, and we are the peasants. I see these people continue to strive to be the elite daily, however. El Vatos are getting more recruits every day. It's hard staying alive in the lower districts, and the promise of food, shelter, and security is stronger than those of morality._

 _How did we get this way?_

 _You didn't come here to see the ramblings of myself. You've come for a story._

 _Prisoner number S38849522, Aubrey Sabin. Charged with battery. Sentenced to 10 years in a maximum facility prison, as well as anger management classes. Eligible for parole in 8._

* * *

 **Aubrey Sabin, 18**

 **Midwest Female**

"Sabin, you know why you're in my office today?" ask the warden as he looks at me with an intense and flustered look. His eyes square in on mine, and he clears his throat as if to rush my answer.

"There are two possible answers," I say politely. "One, the CO whose nose I allegedly broke has found proof that I broke it. Or two, you're apologizing to me for the accusation and sending me back to my standard cell and out of SEG."

"Ms. Sabin, I'm going to repeat, now that you're in here, there is no needed proof. There might not be camera footage, and you might have been able to be sneaky and make the break when no one was looking, but I assure you, you're getting the charge of battery. _Again."_ he says with a twisted smile. "I just need to finish the paperwork. You stupid girl."

Suddenly the world around me dims, and the light from the window in the warden's large office window spills away. I can see my home. I can see Belen; I can see the fateful night right after finals.

I can see the reason that I'm in here.

"Ms. Sabin?!" the warden speaks up angry and snaps his fingers. I snap back into reality. Not sure how long I was zoned out. "You'd do well to follow orders and answer the questions I'm asking."

"Did you just snap your fingers at me?" I ask with a shocked and angry tone. "Listen, sir, I'm not sure who you-"

He interrupts my sentence as he snaps his fingers in a z- shaped formation. He smiles as he sees my eyes narrow and I feel my cheeks start to burn in anger. I make a fist as I sit down in my chair and try the exercises that Ms. Poitry told me to do when I feel an anger-wave filling me up.

"You don't talk to me like that, Sabin," he says. "You're the prisoner. I'm the warden."

"I didn't speak to you like anything," I say through gritted teeth. I hate it when people use their positions of power to belittle other people.

"You think you're the man, Ms. Sabin? You think you're a big strong person, yet, here you are. In prison."

Again the world around me dims, and this time I'm staring at the hospital bed of James as he lies in a comatose state. I walk over to him and sit on his bed. He looks pitiful. He looks just like Belen did after he had his way with her.

"They're going to catch you, you know?" he says through a raspy muffled voice.

'They found your DNA inside of her, James." I say proudly as I reach over to his IV bag and replace it with an empty one. "You're going down for rape."

"You're going down for battery." he says with a sharp remark.

I take the IV out of the full bag and attach it to the empty bag I just hung on his wrack. "Probably," I say with a mean look. "I won't go down for murder though," I say as I watch his veins start to stick out of his head. I know I can't stay too long because I will get caught if they find me in here. I walk into the bathroom inside of the room and close the door. I click the lock as I hear the machine alerting the doctors and nurses that he's tanking. I sit inside the shower with the curtain drawn as I listen to them screaming trying to bring him back, but after several attempts he flatlines. I hear the doctor call for the police, but they leave the room, and I wrap myself in the hood just like when I came in, and walk straight out of the hospital.

A hand awakens me out of my stupor as I snap back into reality and see the warden standing over me. I've moved from the chair in front of his desk to a couch on the other side of his room. He looks angry as he continues to scream in my face, but I can't hear him. I'm not entirely invested in the world around me right now, not after he slapped me.

It's like a veil of red fell over me, and suddenly I see nothing but destruction. I kick the warden in the balls, and he falls over to the side, which allows me to continue to kick him in the stomach and face. I get about five kicks in before the CO comes running in with a sedative. My face is sweating, and as he sticks the needle into my arm, the red that I see begins to fade back into the technicolor world I slip away from so often.

"You might want to call an ambulance," I say looking down at the man lying on the floor. "I have a feeling he'll need one."

* * *

 _We've been sanctioned into families here. Single men and women are divided into pods and forced into a marriage. I've been assigned a significant other, who has a hard time taking no for an answer. It's been an awful occurrence._

 _They almost caught me writing this in my room. Writing in journals have been strictly banned under the Mercay Rule. They're total tyrants and have made it very clear that they mean business. Public executions have become a new standard. Our sole purpose right now is to repopulate the country. There was a lot of casualties from the takeover._

 _Prisoner number S1124526 Marshall Clyde. Charged with murder in the third degree. Sentenced to 14 years in a federal prison. Eligible for parole in 8._

* * *

 **Marshall Clyde, 17**

 **Midwest Male**

"You doing okay, man?" ask Carlos as he leans back against top bunk. He was my tour guide when I got sent to this hellhole a couple of months back. He's been like an older brother that I never knew I needed. You need ties in here; you'll stir crazy if not.

"I'm doing moderate," I say. "It's been a rough adjustment. Every time I sleep I see Jane in my mind man, and every time I wake up I expect her to be right next to me, but instead I have your ugly mug."

"Hey watch it, Pendejo," he says with a chuckle from the top bunk. "I know this Jane girl is the reason you're in here, but like, you've been in here for six months, and I still don't know your story."

"We aren't at that level yet," I say honestly.

"Fair enough," he says. "Did you hear about the scandal in Spanish Harlem?" he asks me. "Apparently one of the female CO's is knocked up with Concepcion's baby. Let's hope he looks like the mother because Conne got that "I was a product of incest" look going on."

I bust out laughing, and one of the COs bang on our cell door. "Shut up in there! It's lights out!" screams the man from the outside.

What it must be like to get to wander these halls freely. The truth about the COs is they're just as much of a prisoner as we are. They are forced to come here every day. To be called by their last names, to see the same prisoners every day. Minute by minute of our time served they're right there with us serving it. The only difference is they get the check when they leave the moment their shift is up.

"I had a dream about home again," says Carlos in a whisper. "Gabrielle was doing her favorite kind of cooking, take out, and Juanita and Celia were sitting at the kitchen table. When they saw me, they were so excited to see their dad walk into the room. Then they all just went up in smoke."

"Yeah," I say. "That's the effect this place can have on you. You only have a year left, right?"

"A year is a long time when you have a 8 and a 4-year-old back home man."

"14 years is a long time when you're 17," I say shrugging. "We all did something to end up here. You smuggled drugs; I killed someone." I whisper.

"No shit," says Carlos as he jumps down from the bed. "You killed someone?!"

"Jane," I murmur.

"What she do?"

"She cheated on me."

A sad look falls over my friend as he sits on the ground next to my bunk. He puts his hand on my arm, and I feel a sense of comfort from the man who has taken my under his wing since I got here.

"I'm sorry that happened, lil bro," he says. "But you gotta control that anger dude. I can't have you coming back in here when you get out."

"I don't think I am getting out," I mutter. "I can't explain it, but like, I've known since I came into this cell, I wouldn't know freedom again. At least real freedom. Not with the war and everything going on out there. We've been sticking our noses into other countries for too long; I bet they'll start drafting prisoners after awhile if the casualties keep going up."

"We can't think like that man. We have things to live for. Prison isn't the end of your life, but the start of something new. It's not always going to be pretty, but such is life man. This Jane chick is dead. You can't change what you did, but you can't allow guilty thoughts like that to overtake you. Once you let those get to you in this prison, you're done. That's it."

"Maybe it's what I deserve then," I whisper to myself.

"We all deserve something." says Carlos, "but this shit hole isn't it."

"HEY!" screams the guard. "I said shut up!"

"I don't fucking care." I pop back instantly. "As long as I get the hell out of bed tomorrow what the fuck does it matter what time I finally close my eyes."

"That's a shot, inmate!"

"Fuck you!"

Then the cell door opens.

* * *

 **Kate Felix, 29**

 **Secretary to President Ophelia**

The round up was the worst part about last year too. Everyone was always so insistent to not follow instructions, and I swear it made me age about seven years. There's something about a prisoner hearing that they are getting taken away to a new place that just sets them off.

A knock comes from the corner of my office in the new prison we've been transferring the prisoners too. Of course, this is only the holding place for the arena that is to come into play once their times in the games start.

"Come in," I say loudly enough to where I won't have to get up, and they'll just walk through the door.

Tahan Jacobs comes into my office. Her blonde hair is falling in waves around her as she clears her throat and looks at me with a narrowed eye.

"The prisoners aren't doing very well," she murmurs. "I know that I'm supposed to be helping them through this time, but I can't assist them if I can't be honest with them."

"We can't tell them they're going to fight yet," I say plainly. "Strict orders from-"

"The wicked bitch from the west," Tahan says. "Yeah, I know," she says sadly.

"You shouldn't call her that," I say plainly. "Ophelia has been known to have ears everywhere, and she's never taken kindly to name calling."

"She doesn't scare me," Tahan says boldly. "You scare me more than she does."

"Me?" I ask confused. "Why is that?"

"Ophelia is a monster. But you? You're a bitch," she says. "You hand picked every single one of these kids, just like you did last year. You might have been following orders, Kate, but you didn't even pick murderers and rapist this time. Some kids are in here for larceny, and petty crimes. I don't know why kind of a show you're running, but it's disgusting."

"Is that the only reason you're in here, Ms. Jacobs?" I ask questionably.

"No," she replies. "Clyde and Sabin just arrived in the van. They've had to be sedated twice each, and both of them are just now wearing off again. The girl gets violent, and the boy isn't scared to throw a punch either."

"Good, then they'll be excellent in the games," I say coldly. "Their cells look-"

"Exactly like their rooms back home, yes," says Tahan. "I saw to it."

"Excellent," I say. "Now leave my office."

She turns to exit the room when I clear my throat, and she turns around to face me again. "If you ever call me a bitch again, Tahan," I said threateningly. "It'll be one of the last things you ever do."

She chuckles to herself as she walks over to the desk that I'm sitting at and leans in close to my face. "You've taken everything from me," she says. "I don't have anything else to lose. You wanna kill me, _bitch_ " she says emphasizing the word. "Go ahead. I'm ready." She sits there quietly and just stares me down. After a minute she comes back into a standing position and smiles. "I always trust a monster more than a bitch. At least you know what to expect with a monster. Have a beautiful day, Kate." she says as she walks out of the room.

* * *

 _I have had to block the room door to my suite in the house that I was assigned to. My partner told me that they finally wanted to consummate our relationship for the first time. I'm getting tired of consistently fighting away this pervert. I don't know how much longer I can continue on this, but don't worry. I'm a tough nut to crack._

 _Until we talk again,_

 _Anonymous_

 **Yay! Another update! That's what happens when I'm FINALLY done with finals. I missed this story, and I hope you guys did too! I know I wasn't exactly writing, but I've come up with SOOOO many plans. I have the ending ready! All I need is my victor ;)**

 **Remember to review. I left a HUGEEEE clue to what the arena is going to be in this chapter. Good luck.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	10. Miranda and Ethan

**Woah, two updates in two days?**

 **Who am I?**

 **Welcome back, enjoy the show.**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: Miranda is a rapist. You knew that though if you read the blog. Also, threaten of suicide in final POV.**

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _A lot has happened since the last time that I was able to write. Panem has officially announced the dates for the first Hunger Games the world has ever seen. Well, not exactly the first, but I'm jumping way ahead of myself when I say that._

 _There are sick people who are actually wanting to go into these games. The first Hunger Games is to happen exactly 3 months from today. It's safe to say that I'm not excited for this endeavor. Especially since my partner is one of the people, who want to send our non-existent child into the games. I've told them no way in hell is that happening, but they're insistent that any child of theirs will bring honor to their family._

 _They just don't understand the tragedy that these games bring. Not like me._

 _I feel a bit selfish as I introduce these characters to you. I already know the outcome of all of this, and though I hope to do every tribute justice, the truth is some just didn't last long enough for me actually to know more than a name on file. When you're forced to kill or be killed, we tend to kill. Selfish tendencies are one of the most driving factors that make us human. Our survival instincts are so strong that I question whether there is such a thing as selflessness._

 _Our next tribute is selfish. Just a matter of fact._

 _Prisoner number S388490211 Miranda Chang. Charged with the rape of Aaron McArthur. Sentenced to 20 years in a maximum facility prison. Eligible for parole in 12._

* * *

 **Miranda Chang, 16**

 **Western Female**

Mrs. Aaron McArthur.

I like the sound of it. I've already planned where the wedding ceremony will be, I need to find my dress still. If only these idiot guards would see that I shouldn't be in here. I didn't rape Aaron. I was having sex with my fiance.

I called him the other day, but he must have been at school, or at the musical rehearsal because he didn't answer. I left him a voicemail like I always do. I'm sure he listens to them over and over again. By the time he gets home and is available to talk they lock us down in prison.

I've his schedule down to a science. It takes him exactly an hour to get all of his homework done before rehearsal, and that's because he skips the ones he doesn't know how to do. Then he warms up by doing his stretches and vocal exercises, and then he talks with the guys back stage.

I love him dearly, but we aren't the perfect couple by any means. I caught him cheating on me with Sindy Haler before our passionate magical night. My one regret about being in this place is I didn't take Sindy out. That stupid whore.

Imagine how devastating it was for me to walk into the girls dressing room and see her playing tonsil hockey with my man?! Who does this bitch thinks she is?!

But I won in the end. Because at the end of the day, I had sex with Aaron. He chose me. I am his love, and he is mine, and one day when I'm out of here we are going to live happily ever after. Happily. Ever. After.

I won't take no for an answer.

The door to my solo-cell opens and the CO is standing in my doorway with a sourpuss look on his face. "Chang!" he says, "You have a visitor. Though I'm not sure why."

"Oh! My darling has come to see me!" I say excitedly as I run over to the mirror and begin to fluff my hair. I splash some water on my face and dry it off, and then follow the CO out of the room and down the hall.

The other barbarians that share the hall with me begin to shout as I walk down with the CO. They ask to come out of their cells, and to rejoin general population, but these idiots couldn't survive in gen-pop. I personally love being secluded to this cell. It's the best part about being in here for me, being able to keep to myself.

We turn down another long hallway, and for the first time in the many months I've been here, I see other girls walking around the halls. They carry bags of laundry and eat chips as they talk with their friends about various prison related things.

At least that's what I am assuming.

We turn into the visitor's room, and I look down the many glass dividers that are between the visitor and prisoner. As I scan down each and every counter, one in particular sends my heart into a flutter of excitement.

Aaron sits behind one of the counters with a serious look on his face. His dimples are being hidden by the scowl on his face, but I'm sure I can get him smiling in no time. I look at the guard and smile broadly as I walk down the aisle of other prisoners visiting with their visitors.

None are as happy as I am right now.

"Aaron!" I say excitedly as I stick my hand to the glass window and wait for him to do it back. "I've missed you so much! Where have you been!? I've called you so much, but I've never gotten an answer. I just want to hear your voice after so long of not-"

"You have to stop calling me, Miranda." he says sternly not giving me eye contact. "I'm trying to heal." he says quietly. "I'm trying to move on from what you did to me, but I can't if you continue to contact me. I need you to leave me alone."

"Aaron, we love each other." I say with my hand still pressed against the window. "You told me so! We sang to each other and professed our feelings."

"We were starring opposite in "Into the Woods", Miranda." he says. "I had to declare my love for the character of Rapunzel. It was my lines."

"Aaron, we consummated our love on that night."

"Miranda...no," he whispers. "You raped me."

"You wanted me to have sex with you! You told me!"

"Miranda it was innuendo in the show!" he shouts. He instantly looks around and regrets saying that as loudly as he did. "You drugged me, and then you raped me. That isn't love, Miranda. You deserve the time you got."

Tears begin to stream down my face as he tells me he doesn't love me anymore. "You can't do this to me, Aaron. I've given up so much for you!" I say desperately.

"Is everything okay, sweetie?" I hear a female voice say. A female voice that I know of so well. "I heard you shout."

"I'm all right, Sindy." says Aaron as he stands up. "I was just leaving."

"HER?!" I scream as he gets up from the chair. "YOU'RE CHEATING ON ME WITH THAT...THAT SLUT?!" He begins to walk out of the room, and I jump up from my seat. "DON'T YOU DARE STEP AWAY FROM ME RIGHT NOW, AARON MCARTHUR!" I scream. I take the phone they have that allowed us to communicate between the divider and slam it into the glass window. The glass shatters and I jump over the dividers and run towards Aaron and Sindy. They both scream as I lunge for Sindy, and I just get ahold of her hair when I feel a shock from the CO's taser enter my body.

* * *

 _Throughout my year here in the country of Panem I've experienced some serious flaws in humanity. One of which is that trusting people in this country has you ending up with a bullet in your head. I won't sit here and go through every situation that has irked me since I've been apart of the country, but there's been plenty of reasons why I am so secretive._

 _Our next tribute has a story intertwined in our own story. Most people would have a very different reaction to the situation that this tribute had to face. But not him. No, Prisoner number S38839452, or Ethan Pancamo, had a lot of making up to do with his cellmate before he even walked into the building._

 _Ethan Pancamo was charged with robbery with a firearm. He was sentenced to 23 years in a federal prison. He was eligible for parole in 14_

* * *

 **Ethan Pancamo, 17**

 **Western Male**

"Prisoners please take your cot, uniform, and toothbrush and form a line on the wall."

About a dozen or so new inmates to the Oilton Correctional Facility in Cheyenne, Wyoming gather against the wall that is at the front of the visitor's gate. This is the last time that I'll be wearing my street clothes for a long time. I never thought that the feeling of blue jeans is something I'd miss, but when you feel the prison uniform material you quickly begin to appreciate the things you once took for granted.

"If you move down the line you'll see your prison tour guide. This is your buddy throughout this horrible experience that is going to be soul crushing for you." says the CO. He begins to name the prisoners off with another inmate, and then I hear my name.

"Pancamo, you're with Lambert."

My heart stops as I blink my eyes repeatedly. Surely the last name Lambert is common enough that it can't be Adam. It surely can't be Ryan. That's asking for my death delivered on a silver platter. But as I try to convince myself that Ryan Lambert is not about to walk through those doors, my world is crushed as his blonde hair shines like a light in the dull room that we are in.

"Hey, Ethan," he says coldly as he looks me up and down. "Long time no see."

"Lambert." says the CO. "You're to take Pancamo to your cell. He's your new cellmate. Show him around, don't let him get jumped, tell him who to avoid."

"No problem," says Ryan with a snide snark to his voice. "Follow me, Ethan."

I pause as I look at the CO for help. Surely they can assign me another cell. I can't be around Ryan in here. Going to prison was bad enough, but now I have to go to jail and face an enemy all at the same time?

"What are you waiting for, Pancamo? A red carpet. Move your butt." says the CO rudely as I shuffle down the hall to catch up with Ryan.

We walk down the hall quietly. His jaw is clenched as I continue to look at his fist at all times. I'd rather not end up at the receiving end of one of his blows. I've seen the kid fight. He's a real hard ass. He stops walking when we get to a particular door and I accidentally bump into him because I didn't notice he stopped. He turns around and looks annoyed and then points to the door.

"Go in there and get into your prison uniform. Make sure your badge is on at all times. You'll get shots if not."

"Thanks, Ryan, I-"

"We aren't doing this," he says holding up his hand. "Go change."

I walk into the room and begin to undress and get into my prison uniform. When I get the uniform on, I attach my prison badge to my pocket on the shirt, and walk out of the room. Ryan doesn't even acknowledge me. Just points to the bags next to the room and I figure I'm supposed to put my clothes in them and label them. After I do that, he walks over to a shoot, and opens it up, and I drop the bag down the shoot into where ever our stuff goes for the remainder of our stay here in Oilton.

"Our cell is this way." he says as he walks towards a hallway labeled "CELLBLOCK G."

When we arrive in the cell block he walks up a flight of stairs and into the first cell on the right. When I follow him in, a CO locks the door behind me and I jump. Ryan lies on the bottom bunk staring up at the underside of the bed on top. He looks angry as I sit my cot and other bed accessories onto my bunk. I climb to the top and we sit there in silence for a long time.

After what seems like years, Ryan stands up from his bunk and walks over to use the toilet. After he finishes, he washes his hands and then stares at me.

"You were my best friend," he said harshly. "You let me go down for this on my own, and now I'm here for my entire 20's."

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

"Is that seriously all you have to say, dude?" he ask me with a incredulous look on his face. "You were just as much a part of that operation as I was. We were business partners through and through. Split that profit 50/50. Yet you hid any evidence of you being involved at all. So tell me, Ethan, how did you end up in here?"

"I-I-" I murmur as shame and guilt that I've been feeling for months begins to creep up on me.

"You? You?" he says mocking me. "You what, Ethan? What you can stab me in the back, but now that I'm asking you to talk to me you can't even do that? Stop being a puss. Why the fuck are you in here."

"Robbery with a firearm," I say quickly.

Ryan looks at me with raised eyebrows and then leans his head back and laughs. A hearty laugh that fills the entire room. A laugh that reminds me of the old times when we were friends and would just chill out flirting with girls or playing video games.

"Armed fucking robbery!" he says "You're a freaking moron. You get away with a crime, and then you do something so fucking stupid like that and end up right where you tried so hard to avoid!"

"You don't know what it was like out there," I whisper.

"I know you had skills that you could have used other than armed robbery." he snaps back.

"No one would buy from me anymore. Not after I sold you out."

"Good, I hope it was super rough," says Ryan as he comes back to his bunk and lies down on the bed. "As much as I hate you, I have to admit that it's nice seeing a familiar place around here."

"I feel the same way," I say back to him. "I just hope we can put everything behind us."

"Oh hell no," says Ryan. "We have a lot of shit to cover before we 'put everything behind us'." he says in a mocking tone. "But being in here, and you suffering the same way that I am is one step closer in the right direction for that to happen."

"Okay," I say

"Okay," he says.

* * *

 **Tahan Jacobs, 18**

 **First Victor of the Hunger Games**

I can't stand Kate. There is something about her that just screams school shooter to me. Something tells me that she isn't very happy, and because of that she tries to take it out on people like me.

But I'm not someone you can walk over.

I walk down the hallway that the female tributes are staying on. Every cell is decorated exactly how their room at their home was. Down to the color of the walls and the chips in the paint. They call out to me as I walk down the hall. My heel is clicking the stone surface of the floor as I do.

"Ms. Jacobs?" calls a shrill voice from a room at the end of the hallway. I don't want to go because I know who sits behind that office door, and two crappy encounters in one day are just too much for my brain today. I know that I have to though, so I put on a brave face, and walk into the office.

Ophelia Veyne sits with her laptop open, and her perfectly pressed business suit buttoned all the way up. She clears her throat when I walk in, and then motions for me to sit down in the chair in front of her.

"Has the arena been built yet?" she asked me plainly. While looking back to her computer, she continues to type and doesn't give me eye contact.

"Well, no. Paisley's and Dianna's homes were hard to build in such a short period. Not to mention the amount of money it takes to build houses that are that big." I respond. "But everyone else is finished. They'll be done before the games start."

"That's unacceptable," says Ophelia. "I wanted them done by today."

"And I didn't want to kill 23 other people, but here I am," I say with a snap.

"You would be smart to be kind to me girl. I'd hate for your friends or family to get a lethal headache," he says as her finger hovers over the red button on the corner of her desk. For the first time, she is looking at me, and I know she means business with this threat.

But I'm tired of being pushed around.

"You want to kill them? Fine. Push the button. The second you kill them, the second you lose leverage. I've nothing to lose at that point. You'd have no power over me whatsoever." I say angry. "You don't understand that I'm here because these kids in those cells deserve to know what's going to happen, and they deserve to know someone that's been through something similar. But I swear if you push that button I'll kill myself right here and now."

"You wouldn't." she says.

I reach into the pencil cup on her desk and pull out a pair of scissors. I hold the blade towards my neck like I'm about to shove them into my throat. "Try me and find out," I say.

She glares at me for a minute and then removes her finger from the button. I throw the scissors down on her desk and walk out of the room and down the hall towards my quarters. Something has to be done about this woman. I just don't know what yet.

I just don't know what.

 _Tahan found out what needed to be done in time. She was brave and vigorous. She is a true testament to the phrase "out of the ashes, beauty will rise."_

 _But even the purest of heroes face the darkness within them. The girl that you see before you is full of good intentions. But isn't that what the road to hell is paved with?_

 _Until next time,_

 _Anonymous_

 **Well! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Review, please! It makes me smile to check my email and see people reading my story!**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	11. Sloane and Ryan

**I've been watching Desperate Housewives and thought I would skip the update**

 **However, I missed writing, and I've enjoyed getting back into this.**

 **So, here we are, I'm excited.**

 **No trigger warning this time. Just story.**

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _My partner has officially put in the request for a new spouse. It's a very formal process where if you didn't have a partner before the United States ended, you're placed into a pool and then chosen by compatibility by personality traced, and you're legally married upon matches._

 _Due to the war, there was a drastic over population of women to men, so finding a partner that they deem "acceptable" to repopulate the country is a bit hard when you weren't chosen. People tell me all the time I was so lucky to be matched, but I never felt that way. In fact, I've been praying that we hold out for a time where we marry for love and not for duty to the country._

 _Sometimes I wonder if it was better to have died before Panem was born than actually to be here. Evil is everywhere it seems, and it hurts my heart to see it run around and rear its ugly head everywhere._

 _Prisoner number S384855789 Sloane Disanto. Charge with two counts of DUIs and reckless endangerment with the use of an automobile. Sentenced to four years in a juvenile detention unit. Eligible for parole in one and a half years._

* * *

 **Sloane Disanto, 16**

 **Western Female**

Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived a life that others would kill for. A girl that comes from a well-groomed family, a girl that smiled when something crazy happens, a girl who just wanted to be accepted by everyone. Her name was Sloane, and once upon a time, she had a future. A future that was full of promises and potential for the girl, one that would leave her happy and probably the most successful she could hope to be coming from the background and lifestyle she came from.

But one day she messed it all up.

I think the worst part about jail is all the downtime. With the downtime comes thinking, and with the thinking comes memories, and then all of the memories just sit there and pile up. The thing about memories though, is that sometimes you play pretend. You allow yourself to see the memories for what you want them to be. To trick the subconscious into believing the things that never happened are your reality.

You see, in my memories, I'm not a drunk driver. In my memories, I'm not that girl that is sitting in a detention center at 16 years old. In my memories, I'm not the girl that ruined her chances of getting into Stanford, Princeton, or UCLA.

In my memories, I'm just Sloane. I'm a girl who had a lot of stuff going for her. A girl who wasn't the most good looking, who wasn't the smartest, or even the most popular. I was perfectly average in every way.

"Inmates please make your way to the cafeteria."

And now I'm the prisoner.

Meal and recreation times aren't so bad in prison. In those times you get to be around people. They talk to you, and they fill your head with more than just memories. During those times you see people gossiping if you're lucky you'll get great drama. Sometimes you'll see turf wars between the girls.

It's all great fun after all.

"Have you heard about that special prison that the President has initiated?" ask one of the girls at the back end of the table I'm currently sitting at. "My cousin is over in Kansas, so it's only a rumor, but they say they got a girl taken away and they haven't seen her since. One of the prisoners saw her being escorted into a room, but that's the most that we've heard about it!"

Of course, the information that is being talked about is hardly credible. This piece of gossip goes right under the "wow did you hear about the girl that was having sex with the correctional officer? She's now pregnant" narrative that has been circling for about six months. Well, I still don't see a baby bump on any of these girls.

But it would be nice to get away.

What would it be like to go to a new prison? A new prison that is freshly built and clean, a prison where I'm assuming you get into on merits. You wouldn't have to worry about gang fights or have to worry about your safety. Just living and doing your time.

"Wasn't your cousin the one that is in for smuggling meth?" ask another girl sitting next to her.

"Yeah, so? What's it to you?"

"Well, isn't she kind of, you know, loopy?"

"You talking bad about my family, Luwhenski?"

I let out a sigh and laid my head on the table. Just another day in misery.

* * *

 _The thing about evil it shows itself through various degrees. You have the evil in the form the person that enjoys the sorrow of others. You have the evil that is willing to do anything to get what they want. You have the evil that runs amok doing the unthinkable._

 _The thing about evil is we tend to ignore it. We get distracted by our everyday struggles. We get upset about our nosey neighbors; we get distracted by our spouse not being the person we fell in love with, or our friends turning on us. All of these things that make our fragile world go round is the stuff that makes us lose sight of what's out there._

 _As long as it doesn't happen to us, it doesn't matter, right?_

 _But what about the people that have evil in their everyday lives? The individuals with the issues that overflow into our reality? The ones that we pretend are okay because it's an inconvenience for us to acknowledge the actual pain that they are going through?_

 _Prisoner number S39395885 Ryan Lambert. Charged with possessions of illegal substances with the intention to distribute. Originally sentenced to five years parole, but after breaking it, sentenced to 12 years in federal prison. Not eligible for parole._

* * *

 **Ryan Lambert, 18**

 **Western Male**

I used to believe that life would be better. I thought that one day I would wake up, and everything would look different. The world that I've lived around for so long would suddenly become brighter, and the people around me wouldn't be slimeballs, but fairytales are not made for real life, and life isn't kind to the people it decides to screw over.

Silena and I had our lives planned out. The world was going to get better. I didn't get hit with time for the drug charges like I thought I was going to, and that punk Ethan that sleeps above me was nowhere in my sights.

But now I'm in prison, and the kid that screwed me over is my roommate. I haven't seen Silena in weeks, and I am in here for the majority of my life. All because of one drunken night, and one time of smoking pot.

"You failed a drug test, Ryan," said my parole officer staring at me with a disappointed look on his face. "I'm legally bound to report this. You're going to have to do time for this now."

A search of my house later and they saw that Silena was carrying, and my life went to the shitter from there. Now six months into my sentence and I spend the majority of my day locked up with someone I hate.

The door opens to the cell and Ethan walks in with a couple of bags of hot Cheetos. He throws me a bag and smiles. "I know they're your favorite." I pick them up from the end of my bed and throw them on the ground.

"Keep them." I say. "I don't need your pity. What I needed was friendship, but I only get that when it serves you a purpose, huh?"

"That's not fair." he says quickly

"What isn't fair? The fact you tripped me as we were trying to jump the fence? Or the fact that you were willing to let your best friend go down for doing the same thing that you were doing? We started that _together,_ Ethan. We did this as a pair, and you left me out to dry. I'm serving 12 years in prison now. 12! I'll be 30 when I'm out of here!"

"You can't keep blaming me for your mistakes!" he says bitterly. " _You_ went and broke your parole! Not me! I didn't force you to smoke that weed! You knew the consequences, and you still did it!" he says bucking up to me.

I jump up from the bed and get in his face.

"If it weren't for you selling me down the river I wouldn't have been in that position in the damn first place!" I say shoving him into the wall. "You ruined my life! I might have been the final nail, but you pushed me into the coffin!"

"Fuck you, Ryan!" he screams. "This is a huge reason I tripped you. You were self-destructing anyways! Of course, you would try to blame your failures on me! That's all you've done your whole life. With your dad, Nadia, Petra, and Nicolai! Even Emma!"

I punch him in the nose, and he falls back. I'm breathing heavily as I watch my once friend lay on the ground next to me. He stands back up and clears his throat. "If you'll excuse me," he says, "It appears I need to go take care of myself."

"You should be used to it by now." I say as he closes the cell door behind him. I turn around and grab for the mattress on his bed and sling it across the room. I let out a massive scream and then punch the wall. Tears fill my eyes as the stone surface makes an impact on my knuckles and I fall to the ground and just sit there.

A CO walks into the room and looks at the bed on the ground and then back at me. "That's a shot, Lambert." he says as he pulls his notepad out and begins to write a prison ticket to me. I don't bother to look up at him as he continues to lecture me on how I'm irresponsible.

Ethan walks in towards the middle of the lecture and looks at him confused. He sees me on the ground cradling my knuckles and then looks back at the guard and says, "He didn't do this. It was me. He tried to stop me, but I stomped on his hand."

The correctional officer looks at me and then looks at the blood on the stone wall, and then back at Ethan.

"Pancamo, you're new here. You sure you want to start out lying to a CO?"

"I'm not lying." he says. "If anyone should get a shot it's me."

He rolls his eyes and closes his notebook. "Control your outburst, kid." he says as he closes the door to the cell.

Ethan grabs ahold of his mattress and puts it back onto the bed. He straightens out his bed accessories and then throws me an extra t-shirt from his drawer in the dresser we share. "Wrap it." he says

"This doesn't change anything," I say as I take the t-shirt from him and wrap my hand up in it.

"I know," he says, "but it's a start."

* * *

 _Yes, evil is all around us in many different ways. Sometimes it's our spouse who won't take no for an answer. Sometimes it's our friends who turn their backs on us._

 _But in a moment of clarity, at times evil can do good. Evil is only as dangerous as it allows itself to be, and if humans are evil, every once in awhile we are due for a good deed right? Make no mistake, my retelling of Ethan and Ryan might make your heart warm, but at the center of this story, they're both willing to kill to stay alive._

 _They both did kill._

 _Don't be blinded by the surroundings you put in your everyday life. The unsuspecting are the ones who get attacked first._

 _Until next time,_

 _Anonymous_

* * *

 **-A Year Later-**

The girl walked down the sandy road that was polluted with all sorts of trash from the tiny market stalls that surrounded them. She knew these roads well and had traveled them many times since arriving in Saudi Arabia.

She was on her way to a single tent. A tent that she knew at the end of the day would not help the situation she was in; rather the tent would only put a temporary bandage on the problem at hand.

When she arrived at the shelter, she called out to the inhabitants and waited for them to come open up the flap.

"You can't just be walking around in the daylight!" they whisper harshly pulling the girl in. "It's dangerous for you to be out here!"

"I know," the girl says honestly. "But I was bored."

"Boredom is going to get you killed."

"No, the President of the United States almost did that."

The girl walks straight to a stool that sits in the corner of the tent and begins to fan herself. The sun had been unbearably hot that day. She wondered how long it would take for them to finally invade the states and start the take over that she'd been promised for so long. The takeover that would finally set her free.

"Imogen, I didn't come all this way to sit around."

Imogen Mercay turns to the girl sitting on the stool and smiles. "Soon child." she says soothingly. "Soon and we will have everything we need to take over the United States. Ophelia won't know what hit her."

 **DUN DUN DUN!**

 **I'm loving this new format because I get to reveal whatever the hell I want to and you guys are just left guessing. I LOVE what I have planned for this. I seriously don't think you guys know what's coming.**

 **Who is this girl? Is it Tahan? Kate? Someone else? Leave me guesses!**

 **Surprised to see Imogen?**

 **Is the story still interesting? I haven't gotten a lot of reviews as of late and wondering if it's the story or just finals…**

 **Also, sorry about the third person. I know it sucks.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	12. Raquel and Jemmy

**Things I want to address:**

 **One, I've no idea what gender the narrator is, sorry.**

 **Two, the girl mentioned in the last chapter will again get a POV this chapter, but it will again be in the third person.**

 **Three, If you're not reviewing the story, I'm keeping track. I understand finals and such, but if people don't start reading and reviewing your tribute isn't safe. That goes for my friends, and even my girlfriend (Jenna get your life ((but I love you af)))**

 **That's all. :D**

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _The Peacekeepers, otherwise known as El Vatos, are going on a rampage today in our District. Someone tipped them off that there is contraband from America throughout the houses in my subdivision. So far all they've come across is a bible, some hallucinogens, and vodka. Public executions are being scheduled for the people holding on to religious text. I've buried my bible in the backyard for fear of getting discovered. I only dig it up when I can't remember certain verses or need specific strength._

 _With what I've seen, and what I've watched happen, God is the only thing that is redeeming at this point._

 _It's funny though, this idea of a higher power was never something that I looked for in my life pre-Panem. I feel like I was just living my life for how I saw fit, and what benefited me the most, and now it's me looking out for others. I want nothing more than a Heaven like entity to come down and squash this oppression we are living in, but alas, Panem still stands, and I live in fear._

 _This must be God's punishment for me. Because the pain this country has caused the world is like nothing I ever saw in America._

 _They came quickly and quietly. Taking over State by State, the Middle East was where the first bomb came from, but they were quickly followed from places like Australia and Russia. After the explosions we were vulnerable. The war was starting, and suddenly, we had no way out other than to band together._

 _America was so divided during the time that Panem took over. We had so much division over silly things. Political party, views on social issues, views on taxes. We never understood how much the rest of the world looked at us with disgust. What we failed to see then was we had everything. There was absolutely nothing we wanted for._

 _Now we want for everything._

 _Prisoner number S39999504, Raquel Rimmel. Charged with 5 counts of robbery. Sentenced to 16 years in a federal prison. Eligible for parole in 10._

* * *

 **Raquel Rimmel, 18**

 **Western Female**

I always thought that life would get better. Obviously, there was a part of me that knew change came from someone doing something different, but for some reason I always imagined it to be spontaneous. I always thought that one day, I would wake up and be able to live my life. I wouldn't have to go back to school because I would already know everything that they were supposed to teach me. I wouldn't have to understand the prison system, and the different groups in here because I would never have gone to jail.

Though I dropped out of highschool at 14, one thing I did learn was about people. We never want to take responsibility. The President doesn't accept responsibility for the war going on. The prisoners in my bunk don't want to take responsibility for the reason they are in prison. My father didn't want to take responsibility for me, so he left my mom. My sister didn't accept responsibility for what she did, and that's why she got out of coming here.

My whole life was people that couldn't take responsibility. Which is why when I was on trial, I did something that was out of the ordinary, and took responsibility for what I did.

I stole from people. I took what wasn't mine, and used it to benefit me. I told myself it was okay because I was less fortunate. I told myself it was okay because I was only 14. I was only 15. I was only 16. I was only 17. But by the time I turned 18 I realized that this was it. I wasn't a kid anymore. I was an adult. I had to start making adult choices. I couldn't live my life going through Margarita's crime ring. I couldn't raise a family one day with the background I threw myself into.

No, it was time for me to take responsibility, and now I'm rehabilitating.

There's a total of 503 girls in the California Detention Center. That's about 250 over the limit of what we typically were supposed to hold. They're working on building a new prison because the men share the other half of the jailhouse, but with the rate of incarcerated inmates, and the government getting more strict for the little crimes people used to get away with, it isn't pretty in here.

My cell is supposed to hold two people only, and now we hold 8 in each cell. We sleep on quad-bunk beds and the people on the top barely have enough room to life their head. There is no way for them to build something fast enough for the amount of prisoners that keep flooding in.

"When I get out of here, I'm never arguing with my sister again over our room." says one of the younger girls that just got here. She is on the dreaded top bunk, and last night we woke up to her screaming from night terrors. We found out she's claustrophobic.

"When I get out of here, I'm going right to my boyfriend's house. We aren't getting out of bed for a few days." says a girl as she gets up and dances in the middle of the room provocatively.

"Stop acting like you have a man on the outside, Latoya," says another girl as she giggles. "You know he left you behind."

They begin to bicker, and I tune them out. There's something about this place that makes me feel like I'm not leaving. Since I was sentenced to prison, I knew I would never know what freedom felt like again. It's a weird feeling I can't describe, but something told me that behind bars is the only life I would ever truly know.

"Inmates!" screams one of the guards from the hallway. "SHUT UP!"

The guards here are awful. They treat us with such disrespect that many girls get into fist fights with them. I've always been good about just laying low and doing my time, but even I have found myself getting a bit enraged when it comes to the men and women who are here to "keep us in check."

I've always just wanted to serve my time. Nothing more, nothing less even. I know the likelihood of me getting out of here on parole is the equivalent of me getting wings and flying out. No one gets out on parole in America. Not under Ophelia Veyne and her righteous crusade against all criminals.

"Yes, CO," we say in unison as we hear the heels of his boots click down the hallway.

I watch as the girls whisper about their lives back home and the exciting things they get to go back home to. I don't have that luxury, but I'm glad that someone else does. My life has never been a cake walk.

My mom died in a car accident, my dad was a jackass one night stand.

I was a criminal.

The door to our cell opens and a CO opens the gate and points to me. "Rimmel, get up. You're needed in the prison offices."

I look at him curiously but hop off my bed and walk towards the doors. He leads me down the hallway as a feeling of dread creeps throughout my body.

* * *

 _Though Panem is significantly worse than America, I can't help but be honest and say that America wasn't the best in the world. The land of the free and the home of the brave was very much at an all time low in patriotism and love for one's country._

 _The truth is we hadn't been the best for a long time. Somewhere along the way we got so caught up in ourselves that there was no room for anyone to get caught up in helping. We slept through so much. Our sense of arrogance is the only thing that survived of our country during that war._

 _The minute the Capitol took New York City, I knew it was over. Once the hunt for Senators began, I knew we were all screwed in the process. Imogen and Klause Mercay were ruthless in their take over, but when Klause got sick towards the end of the war, we saw who wore the pants._

 _Imogen Mercay was born in Cheney, Washington. That was what was so surprising to us all. She had our accent. She had our sense of pride and arrogance that only Americans could posses. She had our understanding of culture._

 _She still took us down._

 _Klause Mercay's whereabouts are unknown to this day. Though he's presumed dead._

 _Prisoner number S3884950664, James "Jemmy" Gilbert. Charged with underage gambling in a Casino, and cheating during so. Sentenced to 5 years in a federal prison. Eligible for parole in 1.5._

* * *

 **Jemmy Gilbert, 17**

 **Western Male**

There was a riot in the Nevada State Correctional Facility last night. Over 15 inmates perished in the first takeover, and over 45 died in the process of them trying to take control back. The prisoners are currently on our last leg of defense as they've contained us in the cafeteria.

"We will not give into their demands!" screams one of the guys standing on the table. "We will fight for what we deserve! What is that boys?!"

"JUSTICE!" they scream in unison.

They've been screaming that word like it's a work of art they just created themselves. I see what these guys do, and know their idea of justice. Stabbing someone at their work post because they wronged you first. Stealing someone's commissary because they're weaker than you are. These guys don't want justice. They want freedom.

Something that at least another 15 of us will never get to experience when they finally break this door down.

"I will not rest, Brothers until we are fully supplied with basic human rights! We want cheeseburgers! We want fast food! We want sodas in the cafeteria! We want bigger cells, and real mattresses rather than the cots we sleep on! We want TVs in every cell and free snacks in the mess hall! What is that boys?!"

"JUSTICE!" they scream

The leader of the group lets out a fearsome victory yell that fills the whole cafeteria. The morons that surround him are cheering in excitement as well, and I can't help but laugh. Not because these idiots are funny, but because they think they're smart. The likelihood of getting ANY of those demands met is a swift and reliable 0.

Which oddly enough, is the likelihood any of us get parole after this stunt.

You see, what a lot of prisoners don't understand is that life's a gamble. We set back, and we get our cards and hope that they're the best they could be. We watch our neighbor's bluffs and see if they have a better hand. If they got a new car, if they're getting a pool, if they're getting something new and lavish, that apparently means that their hand is better, right?

The truth is that everyone thinks that they have the best hand. Like these prisoners believe that they have the better hand, when what do they have? The guards have guns, smoke bombs, and other needed things to take us out in an instant. They have shanks, crazy ass demands that will never get answered, and facing life in prison.

Yeah, life's a gamble, and we play the best hand we possibly can. Sometimes that ends us up in a happy place, and other times it ends us up in prison.

The screaming in the cafeteria dies down, and we hear a voice come over the prison intercom system. The voice is loud in nature, deep, and sounds like it means business.

"Prisoners, we need a representative to come out and receive a phone. We need communication with you all." says the intercom. "We will give you 5 minutes to decide."

Everyone begins to panic. No one wants to be the person that goes out there because odds are you aren't coming back in. Not that that would be a bad thing. The riot started because a couple of dummies wanted better food and stuff like that. After the uprising had begun, we were all marked as evil and forced to join in.

By joining in, I mean I just walked around and saw what everyone was doing. If gambling taught me one thing, it was to be observant. Now that I think about it leaving this cafeteria that reeks of BO and desperation could be a superb gamble. Walking out of there and being the person that allows them to know what's going on, but also let them know that you weren't participating, you just got swept in the crowd, could make them grateful.

Grateful enough to give me a chance at parole.

"Alright, who is going out there?!" screams the gorilla on the table. "I'm the fearless leader, so I must remain inside the cafeteria at all times! I need someone to volunteer."

The cafeteria, for the first time since any of us got in here, is dead silent. No prisoner is eager to raise their hand, and I smile to myself. They've made this all too easy. I raise my hand, and the prisoners begin to clap as I make my way through the ranks of all of the rioters. The leader shakes my hand when I get to the table and then instructs a path for me to get to the door.

When I get to the door, I play it up making them think I'm nervous and then walk out the door. When I do no one rushes me, no one yells for me, no one grabs me, but I scream to make the prisoners think they did. I hold up a finger to the guards who look confused as I scream like I'm being executed on the floor in front of them, and then stop.

"I'll tell you everything you need to know," I say, "I need you to hand me the phone, but hold a gun to my back, so they don't try to make me go back in. I wanted no part in this."

The guard nods and follows my request, and it goes off without any issues. The prisoners salute me as I'm dragged back crying, and I get to watch all of them get in trouble from the comfort of the guards knowing that I'm the reason they were able to stop this.

It only took them 40 minutes to take down this riot after I gave up everything.

They are holding me in a particular room with a TV and recliner and a nice bed when a woman in a beautiful black dress walks by my cell talking to the CO in charge.

"What do you mean you don't have access to the prisoner's right now?! This is a freaking prison! What are you handing out spa trips and vacation homes currently?!"

"Mam," says the officer.

"Ms. Felix!" she corrects him angrily. "Mam was my mother."

"As I told you before, we just got the riot under control. Mr. Hernandez experienced a lot of injuries over the course of his time during the riot. We can't allow his transfer in the middle of surgery." says the CO with an annoyed tone.

The woman looks around the hall and locks eyes with me. Only a moment passes before I realize this is going to be the greatest mistake that I ever did.

"He'll do," she says as she points to me and hands the guard a syringe.

* * *

 **-A Year Later-**

* * *

The young girl sits in the tent that she has been cooped up in for days with a high sense of impatience. Once everything unfolded back in America, the young woman instantly knew it was important to get on the better side of things. The winning team. Not that she had much of choice, the other team did try to kill her after all.

But there was still a strong sense of urgency in what she was about to do. There was an uneasy feeling that she knew once this happened, there was no turning back. Her face would be broadcasted from sea to shining sea. The entire country would know what she'd done, and all she could do was hope that the woman that promised her the world would hold faithful to her end of the bargain.

That's a lot of pressure for a young girl to be under.

As she's contemplating whether she is doing the right thing, the intern for the news station is walking towards the edge of her tent. He takes a deep breath as he knows that in a moment, he would have the most life changing event in his life happen, and not only is he having a direct impact on it, he is benefiting from it. He knocks on the edge of the tent, and the young woman opens up the flap with a rustic look.

"It's about time!" she says. "Geez, what were you waiting for?"

"I had a lot to do before I came and got you, Ms-"

"We've no time for your silly excuses." says the girl as she waves him off. "Bring me to the news station."

They walk side by side down the road, and when they finally get to the main road, they wave down a taxi. The girl sighs in relief because a car meant AC, and though she was used to hot weather, she had no desire to be in it for extended periods of time.

She takes the hijab covering her face off in the car, and the young intern freaks out upon her reveal.

"Oh calm down, it's not like the whole world isn't about to see my face." she says as she allows the cold brisk air to hit her face.

When the car finally arrives at the news station, she quickly wraps her head back in the cultural scarf as the intern tips the man money. They rush down the hall and take a left and arrive in the main broadcasting room. Sitting in the director's seat is Klause Mercay as he sighs seeing the young woman come in.

"Darling, we simply don't have all day."

"Tell your intern that." she snaps. "I was ready on time."

She takes off her head dress, and they hand her the clothes that they picked for this great reveal, a pair of jean shorts that cut off at her upper thigh, and a pink v-neck. The young woman couldn't help but smile as she sees the familiar clothes. She takes a seat in the center of the camera shooting area and takes a deep breath as Klause holds up a count down for the rest of the crew to abide by.

As the man holds up a 2, his wife Imogen walks into the room with a small rectangular piece of paper the girl knows her livelihood when she gets out of here. Klause gets to one, but the girl stands up.

"Wait," she says.

"You're kidding," says Klause

"No," she says, "I don't just want money. This new place you're planning on building, The Capitol, I want to live in it. I want to be in the tabloids. I want to experience the life that I deserved from the beginning."

Imogen Mercay smiles as she walks towards the girl in a seductive stride. She stands in front of the girl with a great pose as she hands her the check. "I knew I liked you," she says. "Consider it done."

The girl opens up the check and sees the 100 million dollars they discussed in the cursive writing and smiles. "Now I'm ready," she says.

She takes a seat, and Klause counts down, but this time when he gets to the number 1 the girl takes a breath and looks at the camera.

"Hello, America. I hope you're not busy right now. I have a lot of things to say, and a lot of stories to tell, and you're going to want to listen." the girl knows that her life is forever changed the moment she began this addressed, but she continues with her decided dialogue. "In a matter of days, the land that you were born into and have been fighting so hard for will be nothing but rubble and ashes. In a matter of days, everything you love will disappear at the hands of a new regime called the Capitol. In a matter of days, everything you know will never be the same."

The girl takes a deep breath.

"I know because I've seen them plan. These people are far beyond anything we have back ho-" she pauses as she almost says the word home. "Back in America. You can call me a traitor, a liar, a schemer. But the truth is, America was never there for me. America never had my back. I should know because America tried to kill me." she says. "America put me in an arena with 23 other children and forced me to fight to the death to survive. And unlucky for her, I did. So sit back, grab some popcorn, get a blanket. We've much to discuss."

 **Ah! I love THIS! These two were a masterpiece to write, and I loved them both dearly, and the last POV just flowed from my finger prints. I honestly was initially taking this in a COMPLETE different direction, but this works as well. Also, excuse my third person.**

 **What do you think of these two? Do you have ANY idea on who the girl is? I doubt you'll get it which is what makes this so fun!**

 **Shout outs!: There is a story called "Circle of Death" by TitanMaddix, and it looks HELLA interesting. You should submit because he hasn't a lot of subs right now.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	13. Luna and JJ

**Here we are, at the first reaping, of the last official region!**

 **We are so close to the games, and I'm close to starting to plan my next story.**

 **So while you review this one, I need a vote!**

 **Vote for either a survivor (voting games) SYOT or the end of the Free Falling Trilogy.**

 **TRIGGER WARNING: JJ is a horny young man, and his flashbacks prove it. Also signs of emotional abuse.**

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _Connections to others are some of the most important things that we can have on this earth. I had a lot of connections before the world collapsed. I had a group of people who understood me, and for awhile that's the only thing I thought mattered was my connections that I made. I used them to get to my position of power; I used them to achieve the greatness I believed that I was making._

 _I had never been so wrong in my entire life._

 _Because when the world came crashing down around me, I didn't have any of those connections that lasted. No one was looking for me; no one was watching me, I was just another person in this mess of Panem._

 _Prisoner number S38849999 Luna Koski. Charged with attempted murder. Sentenced to 4 years in a juvenile detention center. Eligible for parole today_

* * *

 **Luna Koski, 15**

 **Eastern Female**

"Court is now in session. Kiera Whitlock vs. Luna Koski. All rise for the honorable Judge Moore."

There's no one in the courtroom except for Kiera, our lawyers, our families, and myself. It's not even really a courtroom, but a room in prison designated for parolees. They wouldn't let anyone else in, though they usually do. The protest outside the jail was so loud, and the angry mobs outside are officially shaken up that the state would even consider allowing "a monster such as myself" out of prison.

It's laughable really. I simply did what anyone else would have done, because the truth is I'm just like you. I'm the part of yourself that you wish you could bury deeper inside to hide the intensity of the feelings you hold. I'm the anger that you never knew you could muster up and the rage that you didn't think humanly possible. I'm the survivor inside of you that will do anything to get what they need.

Or do anything to get what they want.

The judge walks into the room and takes a set at the table that sits in front of the plain white wall in the front of the room. He is carrying a stack of papers and is shifting through them still as he sits. "You may now be seated." says the judge as he looks up from my file. "As you know the regular parole board was compromised with bribes. Though we are not able to prove the crime," he says giving a sharp look at my parents who hold a sincere smirk on their face. "We thought it best to have an unbiased opinion ruling over this case," he says as he clears his throat. "Now, Ms. Whitlock, I see that you've recovered nicely from the surgeries over the past couple of months that Ms. Koski has been in here. Generally with the intensity of the crime committed we aren't having a parole meeting as early as this, but I am in no position to turn over a conviction by Judge Cormier. I understand you're just now being able to move around again?"

Kiera takes a deep breath and nods. "It's not been easy getting back on my feet. We were lucky that when Luna," she says shooting a sharp look at me from where she is sitting, "didn't hit the optic nerve in my eyes. They were able to save my vision completely."

"Excellent," says the judge. "Ms. Koski, tell me, have you regretted your actions at all?"

I know what I should answer. I know that I should suck up my pride, look this judge in the face, and tell him that I am extremely apologetic. I should tell Kiera that even though I stabbed her in the face and chest 15 times, I hope she can find a way to forgive me.

But that would be a lie.

Kiera was a mere pawn in my game. She was in the way and had overstayed her welcome. That was my gang. I created it and made it what it was. Jolene might have been the ring leader, but she wouldn't know how to run a successful group if she had all the classes and time in the world. I did _everything._

And because of some snot nosed little nobody I was going to lose it all. My business. My group. My acceptance. My power.

No, I don't have any regrets.

"Ms. Koski?" ask Judge Moore again. "Do you regret your actions towards Ms. Whitlock?"

I cast a glance at the judge, and then one at Kiera who sits only a few feet away from me. This is the first time I've seen her in months, and I've imagined all the things I wanted to do to her since I found out she was pulled out of the coma she slipped into. I've already envisioned jamming the pen my lawyer is holding into her neck repeatedly.

I look back at my parents who are nodding at me to acknowledge the judge.

"Ms. Koski," he says again impatiently. "I've not a lot of time today, and I'm a very busy man-"

I stand up from the seat that I'm sitting in and nod at the judge. "Of course," I say. "I apologize, I was thinking of how I wanted to word this." I clear my throat and look over at Kiera. "Kiera, if I've learned one thing since our encounter was life is full of choices."

She rolls her eyes and I'm taken aback at the gut spa this girl has considering I stabbed her just a few short months ago. I clear my throat and decide on a new direction for the speech that I'm making.

"Choices can either make your life or break it. At 15 years old I made a terrible choice. You see, I stabbed a girl 15 times in a public alley, and was arrested for it a few days later. That was a decision that I made, and I'm paying for it now, but what I should have done was something completely different." I look at the judge and smile. "I'm not taking too much time am I?" I say apologetically.

"If this is you apologizing take all the time you need." he says with a soft smile.

"Thank you," I say with a smile. "You see Kiera, what I should have done differently is simple. I shouldn't have been so impulsive. Rather than leading you into an alley in broad daylight, what I should have done was made you think you were going to a job at night. I should have chloroformed your ass, and then brought you somewhere where you could scream like the little bitch you are, and no one would hear you." I say with a genuine smile. "No one."

"Alright, Ms. Koski, I think I've heard-"

"So, Judge Moore, you asked me if I regret my actions? The answer is yes. I am sorry for not dragging the cuts out to make you feel more pain. I am sorry for not ripping off your finger nails, or even hitting an optic nerve." I say with a sarcastic head tilt.

"Ms. Koski, I'm warning you-"

"What I regret most though, is not slitting your throat when I had the chance." I look over at the CO who looks awestruck at me as I hold my hands in the air and look towards them. "You can take my back to my cell. Mama. Papa. I'll see you guys soon."

"Yes, baby," says Papa. "You will."

The CO cuffs my hands and looks to the judge for dismissal, but Judge Moore just stares at me dumbfounded. I roll my eyes and get up from the seat and walk towards the door myself. "Are you coming, or am I escorting myself?"

The guard clears his throat and meets me at the door. Together we walk down the hall as he continues to have that stupid slack jaw expression on his face.

"Honestly, I'm very surprised, Koski. I thought you would have gotten out today."

"Number one rule of life is don't lie about the things that make you happy," I say coldly as we wait for the gate that will lead me back to my cellblock to open.

* * *

 _Never underestimate the powers of human desire. As a species, we are capable of doing crazy things. Stupid and immoral things. Most don't see the inappropriate actions as immoral and continue to do so because it's pleasurable._

 _As long as we get what we want. As long as the goods keep coming, we don't see a need to stop. But sometimes our pleasure can cause our demise. And sometimes our denial of the dangers of this pleasure can end up getting us in trouble._

 _Our next prisoner knows all about that._

 _Prisoner number S7778394950 Joseph "JJ" Brooks. Charged with possession and distributing child pornography. Sentenced to 15 years in a federal prison. Eligible for parole in 1_

* * *

 **James "JJ" Brooks, 18**

 **Eastern Male**

 **-A Year Ago-**

"Man this part is bopping!" says Mike as he looks around at the house party that I managed to pull off again. "How did you even manage to get this many kegs?"

"Lots of hard work my friend," I say with a smile as I see a girl doing a kegstand. Her shirt falls over face, and I can't help but smile. She chugs for a solid 10 seconds, and then comes down from the keg and takes her shirt off completely. She yells in excitement and then runs off with her friends to start dancing.

"Some party, huh?"

I turn to see a girl that can't be older than 16 years old. She smiles at me, and I can't help but think she looks vaguely familiar.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" No matter her age, the girl is hot. I'm 18, but this is my birthday after all. I'm still in highschool, and she's in high school. What's the worst that can happen?

"I've been to your house a few times, JJ.," she says with a sly smirk.

"Right, you're Lauren's friend!" I say

"Most people just call me Clarisse," she says. "Are you just going to stare at me all night, or are you going to ask me to dance?"

 **-Present Day-**

"RISE AND SHINE MAGGOTS! THE DAYS AWAITING."

The lights turn on in my cellblock, and I don't move. I didn't sleep a wink last night, but I haven't slept a wink since I've gotten into prison. How did my life end up here? Just last semester I was captain of the field hockey team. I could have any girl I wanted. I could get to any party I wanted. Shoot, I could have gotten any guy I wanted.

"Pretty boy," says my cellmate from the bottom bunk. "Get up you're going to get us in trouble."

"What's the point?" I ask quietly. "What are they going to do send me to prison?"

"That's not the point, JJ!" he says. "Get up, so I don't get a shot!"

 **-A Year Ago-**

"J, that's not the point!" says Clarisse as she frowns at me from the other side of the room. Since I've asked for the nudes, she's moved from sitting next to me. I don't think I'm asking for anything too severe. "I'm not that kind of girl," she says sternly.

"Come on, Clar," I say. "I'm not just any boy. I'm your boyfriend. Don't you want me to be happy?"

"You said that before when you wanted to see them in person," she says indicating to her boobs. "Why do you need a picture?"

"Because if I'm in the mood, and you aren't here, I need something to, I mean you know, help me out."

"You're a pig." she says rolling her eyes.

"Please, Clar?" I ask giving her the puppy face I know that will work. I get up from the couch and walk over to her area and kiss her on her cheek, and slowly slide down to kissing her neck. "Please? I need this."

She lets out a loud sigh and pushes me off. "Fine," she snaps. "Wait here."

 **-Present Day-**

It took them 20 minutes to get me out of bed. I haven't eaten in three days, and haven't showered in 6, so no one was too keen to touch me. I'm currently locked in a bathroom by the guards as they wait for me to take a shower because I'm a "health code violation."

"Hurry up, JJ!" says the officer from outside of the hall. "I don't have all day. It's my daughters birthday, and I'm already running late."

I roll my eyes and walk over to the shower and turn the knob. The hot water probably is nonexistent at this point, but I'm holding out a little hope. Something that I don't regularly feel here. Not anymore. I had everything I wanted back home. I had a hot girlfriend. I had a scholarship lined up. I had my senior year and all my friends to worry about.

Now I have to worry about dropping the soap in prison.

 **-A Year Ago-**

"You aren't leaving!" I growl.

"Yes!" says Clarisse. "I am!"

"I'll post it," I say.

She stops dead in her tracks and turns towards me. "You wouldn't," she says

"Try me," I say. "I swear on everything, if you walk out the door, everyone in the school will see what you have to offer."

"You said you deleted them," she says with tears welling up in her face. "You knew that I was uncomfortable with the situation and you told me you deleted them!"

"I say a lot of things, Clarisse," I say. "But I promise I'm not just talking out of my ass when I say that if you walk out of those doors, you'll regret it."

"Go to hell, JJ., " she says bitterly.

She walks out the door, and before the door closes, I have the pictures in a text message ready to blast out to all my friends. I give her a few seconds to come to her senses and come back in, but when she doesn't, I press the send button. I walk back into my room as my phone begins to explode with enthusiastic responses to my gift.

 **-The Day of his Trial-**

"James Brooks, I sentence you to 13 years in a federal prison. Eligible for parole in 14. The court is dismissed."

"WHAT?!" I scream. "I SENT A NUDE THAT SHE WILLINGLY TOOK!"

"Kid, watch it before he tacks on more time." says my lawyer.

"NO THIS IS BULLSHIT!" I scream as I look around to my parents. My mom is sobbing into her hands, and my father has a sad expression on his face. I look a few rows back and see Clarisse there with a smirk on her face. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT YOU DUMB BITCH!" I scream angrily. "I SWEAR IF I EVER GET OUT OF HERE YOU'RE DEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME?! DEAD!"

 **-Present Day-**

He tacked on two more years for my outburst in the courtroom that day.

I felt as if someone had taken a stone and thrown it at my glass house. I had watched as my entire life slipped from my fingers, and now all I have is these stone walls and a worn out cot that has holes everywhere.

"JJ!" screams the CO. "You have 2 minutes to get out here, or I'm coming in. You won't like me coming in."

Another day of me paying for something that shouldn't even be considered a crime. I turn off the shower knob and wrap the towel around me. I walk to the door and walk past the guard and back towards my cell.

Yeah, another day in hell.

* * *

 **A Year after the Second Games**

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" asked Imogen Mercay as she saunters over to the girl in her typical seductive ways. "You did us a solid there."

"And you'll hold up your end of the bargain? Everything you said I could have, I will?"

"Yes, your life will be restored back to what it was before all this mess happened." says the older woman with a smirk from her husband. "Now, we need one more thing from you, dear."

"Wait a second." says the younger woman. "That wasn't the deal. The deal was I do this broadcast thing and get everything I ever wanted."

"Yes, well, always get it in writing dear," says Imogen as she looks at her nails. "We have one more task for you, and you are free."

"Let me see it in writing." says the girl with a new level of snark. "Because I didn't sign up to give my whole life to you. I have things to get back to you know,"

"What stuff?" asked Imogen. "You said it yourself. The life you once knew is no more. In a few days everything changes and a new regime will take over." she mocks. "Or were those not your words, dear?"

"What do you need?"

"You're going to organize a team that will bomb the statue of liberty," says Imogen with a smile. "You're going to take out the symbol of freedom."

 **Okay, so just to clear things up.**

 **The ending POV written in the third person is a flash forward after the games I'm writing. So it's a year in the future to our present day. If that makes sense? Sorry, my third person sucks.**

 **I have to finish the reapings soon because I'm ready to kill some of these kids off soon. I get bored when I take a long time on the reapings. Just two more.**

 **I'm honestly not quite sure how I plan on doing the pregames chapter. There won't be interviews. There won't be scores because all of it is one secret. So I think it might just be reapings, telling them about the games, maybe a night before chapter, and then boom suddenly we are in the games. This story was more about telling the before you know? I don't know, what do you think?**

 **Also, thanks for keeping up with this story. Sorry if this chapter sucks. I woke up after being asleep and couldn't fall back asleep, so here I am! Writing and finishing a chapter.**

 **Don't forget to review!**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	14. Zoya and Bentley

**I realized I confused even myself last chapter.**

 **So here is the timeline.**

 **The Narrator is in the first year of Panem. They are in the future. All knowing of the story.**

 **The tributes are what you would consider the present. Even though they're part of a narrative.**

 **The girl in the povs I've recently been writing is a year AFTER these games that we are currently on. Those are marked with -A Year After-**

 **Tributes ReapingsThe Girl The Narrator Notes**

 **Trigger Warning: Racism in Zoya's POV.**

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _I'm afraid that it is getting much harder to continue with writing this story. Not because of the desire or drive, but because the Vatos are getting more diligent with their raids. Though they might have nothing against writing, they certainly might have a problem with the American Flag plastered on the cover of this journal._

 _I'm fighting a losing fight. I know that there is no chance that anything goes back to the way it was before. I know that by me writing these stories down, the only accomplishment that I could ever achieve is awareness._

 _But we can't let the past die. We can't avoid our failings. Not if we want to succeed and continue. We were nuking other countries relentlessly. Ruining our planet even to the point that there are supposedly only three countries left in the world. Panem Australia, Panem America, and Panem Asia. We've destroyed so much; it's time to start building something: A legacy._

 _I'm not just writing history. I'm writing a resume. A resume to show how far we can slip. A resume to show that if we aren't better, we will end up the same as we were before. That is why I risk it. That is why I do things like plaster an American flag on the cover of this journal. Because even if I were to get caught, the reminder of what we used to be that comes from seeing this picture is worth more to me than anything that The Capitol can do to me. The look in that Vatos eyes when he or she sees my journal will be exactly why I am doing this. The reminder of the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave will be exactly what I wanted to accomplish._

 _But were we truly the Land of the Free?_

 _Traveling isn't allowed now, but back in America, there was a serious problem with immigration. No matter what side we took on the political spectrum, you HAD to have an opinion on that matter. Whether you stood by our national slogan, or whether you believed in a solid wall, immigration was real. It was happening._

 _Our next tribute learned that all too well._

 _Prisoner number S3848859, Zoya Heda. Charged with Immigration from Egypt. Sentenced to deportation._

 _Before I tell you about Zoya, I can't stress this enough; I mentioned that every one of these tributes but one was bad. Though they might not have deserved the games, they were still monsters in their own ways. Zoya, however, was as pure as they come. I believe that the truest tragedy of these games was not the death of the guilty, but the corruption of the innocent. A lot like Tahan, she had no business being here._

* * *

 **Zoya Heda, 17**

 **Eastern Female**

"Momma," I sob into the phone. "I can't do this. I can't go back home to everything that's going on there!"

"Baby," says momma in Arabic. "I know that this isn't fair. We did everything we were supposed to, and yet that still wasn't enough. We will survive though. We always do."

"But momma," I continue to sob. "It's so scary in here. Just last night a girl was stabbed, and another one was hung from the ceiling. It's suspected it was a guard that did it. I can't even sleep! I'm scared that I'll be stabbed, or hung, or worse."

"You are a Heda, my love." says my mother. "You are stronger than you believe, fiercer than your wildest dreams, and can achieve anything you believe."

My mother has been saying that to me since I was just a girl. I take a breath and let the words from what she says seep into my head and rest there. We've been in crappy positions before. Life of an immigrant isn't just walk to the fence and hop on over the border, especially if you do it the right way like my family. It took my parents 15 years to get the go-ahead from the government to come here. 15 years of waiting, and now after making our lives here we are being sent back.

"They think our people are terrorist, momma," I say. "At least it's benefiting that no one is messing with me. I've been called so many derogatory names when they think I can't hear though. All I wanted was a chance at a better education." I say my breath finally slowed. "I just want to believe that there are better people in this country than what I've seen."

"I know what you mean, baby," she says. "I've got to go though, there is a woman behind me waiting for the phone, and she is growing more and more impatient."

"I love you, momma," I say.

"I love you too, Zoya."

The phone clicks and I hold back a cry as once again in this forsaken country I am alone. Why is it that a group of people has to suffer for the actions of a few? Yes, Egypt has participated heavily in the war, but not everyone in Egypt wants to stop America. A few of us are leaving _because_ of all the hate and the violence.

I don't understand why people insist on hating each other.

We have one life here on this planet. That's it. One life to experience all this earth has to offer. Once chance to experience wonders and beauty beyond our wildest dreams. One life to live a life worth living.

And I've spent my whole life running. Running away from the corruption that is going on overseas. Running away from my problems in life, and now I'm running away from the place that I thought was going to be safe. I thought that I was going to call this place home.

But I've learned that home is confusing.

Home is supposed to be your haven. Your place to hide away from the monsters of this world. Let me tell you; there are monsters among us. Look at our President. But when the monsters overcome your home, there becomes a sense of homelessness, and that's the most helpless feeling ever.

I still remember the day the immigration officers knocked on my door. I was the only one home, and when I answered the door, they walked straight in. Their voices were harsh as they told me to grab a few things for my parents and me and to follow them. I didn't understand what was going on, and I began to cry, so the officer softened his gaze and looked at me.

"Look, kid," he cooed. "I don't want to do this either, but President Veyne has ordered any immigrants from the middle east, no matter how they came over, to be shipped back to their country immediately."

I spent two years in Egypt. I don't even remember it. The government is calling it my country, but I don't even know the culture or anything about it other than the few things my parents talk about. And even then, as the wars in the world continue, it's nothing like it was when they recall it. My parents have been here for 13 years. I barely even speak Arabic.

"Heda, we need you to get a move on." says the CO. "I know you're overwhelmed, but we can't wait for you all day to get it together."

I wipe my eyes and face and take a deep breath. "My apologies," I whisper. "I would like to go back to my cell, please."

"Not the cafeteria?" asks the guard.

"So I can be called a Sand Monkey again?" I ask. "They don't say it to my face, but the girls here aren't very good at whispering."

"I'll bring you a tray." he says with a soft smile.

"Thank you," I say. "You're very kind."

If only the rest of the country was as nice as this CO.

* * *

 _A lot like when America was a country we have our problems in Panem. But back then we were just too self-absorbed to realize that we had serious problems. We pretended not to see the warning signs. We pushed it off to the next person, and then our mindset became the next generation._

 _As our problems continued to fester, we realized it was too late to solve them, and because we didn't fix the problems ourselves, we had people that would fix it take over. The Mercays were the best pretenders I'd ever seen. Pretending they didn't see the hatred in the eyes of the people. Pretending they didn't understand the outrage that was the bombing of the Statue of Liberty. They pretended like they didn't understand the Hunger Games and their injustice._

 _Our next tribute was a pretender as well. I won't lie to you. I could tell you about his time in prison, but I think with prisoner number S3888596655, Bentley Gagnon, it's easier to explain him if you see him_ _ **after**_ _he was taken from the jail._

 _Bentley was charged with kidnapping. Sentenced to rehabilitation until his 18th birthday for a treatment of schizophrenia. Not eligible for parole._

* * *

 **Bentley Gagnon, 17**

 **Eastern Male**

I've been lying here in this cell, with my eyes closed, for the past thirty minutes. The last thing I remember is a Latina woman talking to me about being transferred and then feeling a sharp prick in my neck. I don't know where I am, or what is holding me down.

If this were a game of chess, I'd be completely exposed. My King is currently checkmated, and it's going to be a tricky situation to get out of here. I have some options I can do. One is I can play this schizophrenic act up. I know that mental illness isn't something to be messed with, but life hasn't been kind to me, and if I can convince a doctor that I need a couple of looney pills and that gets me out of a capital charge then I'm okay with that.

The second is I can just continue to lie here, but eventually, I will have to use the bathroom. So I guess option one is where I have to throw my cards.

I open my eyes in a dazed fashion and look around the room. I'm taken aback because where I expected to see cages and metal bars around my doors, I see my room. Exactly like I left it when I was arrested. I see the desk that I sat at in the corner. The posters on the walls of my favorite singers and rappers. The television and PlayStation that I had is sitting on the dresser directly across from my bed.

"What the hell?" I whisper to myself.

I look down at my body and see the pressurized object I felt weighing me down was the weighted blanket that I slept with back home. It even smells like the detergent my mother used to use.

There is a knock at my door, and I realize that I have about 5 seconds to get into character. I get up from the bed and walk over to the desk that sits in the corner of my room next to my closet and prepare for the person, whoever it is, to enter my room.

The door opens, and a blonde haired girl in high heels walks into the room.

"Hello, Bentley."

"NO!" I scream. "SHUT UP!" I say as I clamp my hands over my ears. "I WON'T DO IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"

"Bentley, we are well aware that you don't have schizophrenia. Do me a favor and cut the dramatics. We need to have a conversation."

I turn to here taken aback by her blunt attitude. She looks at me with genuine concern as she clears her throat and walks over to my bed. She takes a seat, and I'm able to see out the door of my room. Multiple doors are lining all around one giant room that is shaped like a square. In the middle of the room, there is a giant couch and a TV directly next to it. There are a couple of other kids my age sitting on the sofa and having a conversation.

"My name is Tahan." says the girl. "Feel free to close the door; there are cameras everywhere in here."

I walk slowly to the door and close it, and as I stretch my arm out, I see the brown uniform with my prison number on it. It's the first time I realize that I'm not wearing clothes from home.

"Where am I?"

"All I can tell you right now is that you're in a correctional facility. We did our best to make your room look as much like you left it back at home, and we hope you find it to your liking."

"It's very nice," I say.

"The reason I need to have a conversation with you is that the nature of your crime is peculiar. I totally guessed when I called you out on your schizophrenia. It was listed in your file that you were possibly faking it, and I wanted to know the truth, but also, I wanted to give you a little heads up."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the thing is, I can't tell you exactly what is happening yet. What I can say is that your so-called disease can be the maximum advantage of what is to come to you in the future. It's in your best interest to probably play it up to the fullest because the more these people are intimidated by you, the better."

"Why is that?" I ask concerned.

"I've probably already said too much. I can get in so much trouble for even telling you this."

"Then why do it?"

"The President doesn't like being lied to."

"Huh?" I ask confused.

"Just trust me, Bentley," she says, "You'll want to play it up."

She has a nervous look on her face that lets me know she's telling me the truth. I clear my throat and take a seat on the desk that I walked over to before she came in. I run my hands along the familiar feel of the wood that I spent so many years at writing out ideas and plans for the future. I smile to myself at those memories.

"It's been so long since someone knew that I wasn't sick, that even I had convinced myself sometimes, but if you think that it's in my best interest to keep up the charade then so be it. I will. What's the go plan from here."

"Pick that lamp off the desk and throw it," she says blatantly. "Obviously not at me, but the wall above me. Make it look and sound convincing."

I nod as I pick the heavy lamp up from my desk and take a deep breath. I let out a loud scream and fling the lamp at the wall above Tahan's head. She screams, and the COs come running into the room with tasers and sedatives in hand.

"Don't tase him!" she says. "Sedate him, clean the glass off the bed, and bring in the straps," she said. "A nurse is to be with him the whole time. I don't want him left alone at all. Do you understand?!"

As she is giving them orders, I am running around the room and covering my ears, and throwing things at the CO when I find something that won't hurt them too badly. I punch at the wall, and I wish that I would have known they were made of stone that was painted to look like drywall beforehand because my knuckles throb as I let out a monstrous yell.

I don't even see the CO as he approaches me with the sedative and injects the needle into my neck. I begin to get dizzy, but not before a huge grin appears on my face.

Suddenly I'm out of checkmate, but I still can't help but wonder what this weird new prison is all about.

* * *

 **-A Year Later-**

 **Tahan Jacobs, 19**

 **Victor of the First Hunger Games**

It started off just like any other morning. The second Hunger Games were over, and Ophelia had a new person to torment with her twisted games. That's the term I coined them as. They forgot to supply food to us until the final 8 when I was in the first games. We thought they were trying to starve us to death.

The good news with her finding a new victor is that I've been let off for a year, but the bad news is, I am still required to be in contact with her at all times. I'm not an idiot. I know there are eyes everywhere watching my every move.

It was 9 in the morning when the first bomb struck the Statue of Liberty. News stations all over the country were broadcasting live exactly three minutes after the initial shock of the incident. We are the United States of America. We are untouchable. Or at least that's what the news media has led the masses to believe.

I've seen too much of the inner works of this country to buy into the hype that we are golden. When the bombs hit, I knew exactly who sent them. The Capitol has been working their way throughout the Middle East and Europe with the sole purpose of destroying the United States. It was only a matter of time before they struck.

The United States government, however, told their citizens none of this. Chaos ensued the minute the statue fell. It was like people forgot that we were all on the same team once tragedy struck us.

I was in bed when my mother ran up to my room and threw the door open. She instructed me to come downstairs and go to the basement, but I knew that Oregon was the farthest thing from The Capitol's mind. If this was the attack I thought it was; they wouldn't bother hitting states without a large population. They would hit places Texas, California, New York, Florida.

One by one I watched my predictions come true. As one state after the other was destroyed to a heap of rubble. Houston, then San Francisco, then Miami. Then the video message appeared. She appeared on every screen in America. Her lines seemed rehearsed, so I can't imagine that this was a live broadcast. But she explained everything. Everything that I wanted to shout from the mountains about this country. Everything I wanted the world to know about Ophelia Veyne. Everything I couldn't say.

My family was shocked. I watched as my mother sat slack jaw in horror as she listened to the stories of the games. I watched as the girl explained so perfectly the emotions of what it felt like to be betrayed by her country. I watched as she exclaimed she felt nothing as she knew it was going to burn.

"Tahan," said mom. "You were exonerated after they moved you to a new prison as well. Were...were you involved in something like this, sweetie?"

I could see on my mom's face that she was praying I would say no. That she was praying that I wouldn't have had to compete in something so gruesome like the Hunger Games, I knew I should lie and tell her no, that the justice system saw me through and that I was just lucky.

But instead, I just began to cry.

"Oh sweetie" she had said as her tears began to flow as well. She wrapped me in her arms, and my brother and father joined in. It was so relieving to tell them what I had been through. It was nice to have someone to talk to about things that I had to ball up for two years now.

"You're so much stronger than we ever thought you were, baby." said my dad into my shoulder. "So much stronger."

Then they came for me.

Yes, it had started out like any other day. The birds were chirping outside my window. My alarm was snoozed for about the seventh time, and my brother was playing video games in his room before school.

Then the bombs happened, and now I'm sitting in the back of a van with the victor of the second games sitting next to me. Their eyes are red and blotchy from crying, and I have a feeling that there is only more crying to come.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" they ask with a hoarse voice.

"Veyne needs us alive," I say. "Plus, I have a feeling that Imogen Mercay needs us alive too."

"We know too much, Tahan."

"True," I say, "but if working with the President has taught me one thing, it's to always cover your bases."

"What do you mean?" they ask me confused.

"I mean that I have our get out of jail free card locked, loaded, and ready to shoot. We aren't going anywhere."

 **I decided to have two chapters where there will be getting to know each other, and then the reveal chapter. The cliques that form in the getting to know each other chapters will serve as alliances in the games.**

 **Since the games are soon to be starting in four chapters, I will probably be uploading the prologue for the final story in the Over the Edge trilogy called Crash Landing. It takes place directly after Free Falling and is maybe the last story that I will ever write with Katherine. Which is altogether heartbreaking and nerve-wracking all at the same time.**

 **We've only one more reaping to go!**

 **With that said get a tribute ready to go! I'm excited. I was only able to do a quick read through before I posted this, so bare with me if it sucks.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	15. Leilani and Toby

**Trigger Warning: Suicide Mentioning in Toby's POV.**

The girl disguised as a guard was walking out of the gate of the arena. She was wearing a black swat uniform that covered her face with goggles and a helmet. She wrapped her hair up in a tight bun before putting the helmet on her head to hide the color of her hair which was very different from the guard she killed.

She hadn't expected actually to kill someone throughout the process of this games. But she knew she couldn't win them. She was choking back tears as she thought of the woman she had just killed. What if she had a child? What if she had a husband, or was the only income to a dying relative?

But they were wicked. No matter the circumstances of their lives, the girl had to remind herself that they were indeed evil people. Who watches teenagers die in an arena after all? She is walking down the road of Wisteria Lane when a female voice calls out to her.

She was sure that she was going to get caught when she killed the guard. She was sure she was going to get caught when she was dragging the guard into the closet of her home. She was sure she was going to die the minute she put the uniform on. But she couldn't help it. She was scared, and she hadn't gotten caught.

"WAIT!" screams the voice.

The girl stops dead in her tracks. She had spoken too soon. Slowly she begins to slow down as she feels her stomach drop to the ground. Tahan Jacobs stands a few feet away from her with a shocked and impressed look on her face.

"I thought it was you," she says as she runs up to the girl. "Don't go that way. They'll catch you, and I can't be much help if you're captured by the guards." she reaches into the pocket of her signature sundress and hands the girl a pair of keys, a card, and 100 dollars in cash. "Sorry, that's all the money I have on me. My car is parked on the opposite side of the neighborhood. You need to take it and run. I just filled up this morning, so you're lucky. I'll walk you to the exit, but from there you're on your own. We need to take the tunnels under the streets, so the other tributes don't have the chance to recognize you."

"Why are you helping me?" asks the girl with tears welling up all over again.

"Because I wish someone had helped me." says Tahan "On that card is my phone number. Call me when you get somewhere safe. I can hide the fact you're missing for maybe two hours, so really put some pep in your step." she nudges for the girl to follow her as she lifts the sewer drain in the middle of the street. She was climbing down when the girl gave her a quizzical look.

"Why were you in the arena?" asked the girl.

"There are heart rate wristbands on each guard that we have connected to a system. Medina's went out. I switched her monitor off and wanted to find out for myself. Start climbing. Hurry."

The girl climbs down the latter and places the sewer drain back over the hole. Tahan and her navigate the tunnels slowly as Tahan is constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure that no one is coming. When they arrive at the exit of the tunnel, Tahan looks at the girl and smiles.

"Good luck," she says as she wraps her in a hug. "My car is in the parking lot directly outside of the building you're about to walk into. Keep straight, make the first right, you're out the door. Make sure your goggles are covering your face, as well as the helmet. If you're caught, you're going to wish you died in here."

"Thank you." says the girl as she makes her way back up to the building and makes her way to the parking lot exactly how Tahan said to. When she arrives at the car, she sits down and starts the engine and quickly drives out of the parking lot.

"Medina?" ask a male voice. "Where are you?"

Rolling down the window, the girl rips the walkie off her belt and chunks it out the of Tahan's car. She takes a breath and finally allows herself to take the goggles and helmet off as she gets onto the highway.

She can't believe how lucky she is.

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _It appears we've reached the end of our introductions. Make no mistake though it might seem like a milestone or something to be celebrated in the story, I have, to be honest with you. This has no happy ending. You've seen the end. You've seen our future._

 _After this chapter, 23 of these people will die._

 _They aren't just people on a page. These kids aren't made up. They were living, breathing, real people. They were youth that we failed in one way or another. They were your neighbor, your classmate, your brother, and sister. They were the future of this country._

 _How ironic that one by one they all fell crashing down._

 _Prisoner number S3395950 Leilani Ku'uaki. Charged with selling stolen goods. Sentenced to 2 years in a juvenile detention center. Eligible for parole in 1._

* * *

 **Leilani Ku'uaki, 15**

 **Eastern Female**

I've always hated the cold. There's something about having to bundle up that just seems so unnatural to me. The wind was always my friend here in Hawaii. We often had long sessions of just coexisting together. I loved watching the way the wind makes the trees and the flowers dance. The way nature is both tortured and saved by such a sensitive element.

Water is another friend of mine. The way the waves come and kiss the earth over and over again has always been so romantic. I have tried so many times to put their love story together in my head. But all I can think of is something is doing it's best to keep them apart.

But water is a persistent suitor. No matter how many times the shore pushes him away, he continues to come back from one more kiss. The shore accepts it for a moment, but she's scared, so she sends him back.

No, I'm not a hippie.

I'm from the island of Honolulu. I grew up in the land of surfers and pineapples, and all of the tourist stuff you see in the movies, and it's nice. But there is a deeper culture there than just the hang loose and kick back vibe you get.

We are a forgotten culture in Hawaii. We are the only state in the United States that ever had a queen. She was treated awful by the mainlanders, but she stayed strong, and she pushed our people forward.

"ALOHA, INMATES," screams the CO. "Please wake up and have yourself a beautiful day here in the Honolulu Correctional Detention Center."

Jail here is almost a joke of sorts. We have tons of people here who did petty crimes, but since our judges are so strict here in the islands, our prisons are super low-key. We have chances that most prisons in the country don't get because, well, most of us aren't criminals. Well, we obviously are criminals, but not like, super-maximum facility. You understand?

It's more of a highly supervised vacation here. The girls have their moments where they get rude, but you can't expect anything different when you put a bunch of teenage girls in a room together.

"Ku'uaki, your dad is waiting in the visiting room." says the CO as he does his count in our cell. "Should I tell him the usual?"

"I'm not interested in talking to the man who turned me in. So yes, please, tell him just to leave."

"He brought a check for your commissary." says the CO with a smile. "Maybe you should be nice and go hear the man out."

"And if he wants me to have it he will leave it here when he leaves," I say bitterly. "There's no reason for me to talk to him. He's said enough."

My father is a very traditional Hawaiian man. He has very definite views as to where women belong, and what they are to society. I just couldn't accept that. There is more to me than just a beautiful face and to be a stay-at-home housewife. I want to experience life. I want to work; I want to eat whatever I want when I want it. I want to experience life.

I don't want to be held captive. And no, the irony of that statement is not lost on me.

"Well, it's none of my business." says the CO. "But tomorrow isn't a guarantee, and though you are stuck in here, and there is a slim chance of something happening to you, there is a world out there that can happen to him," he says. "I know this is a bit out of place for me to say, but I just don't want you to regret your choice kid."

"Don't you have a count to do?" I ask annoyed

"Yes, I do," he says. "Good luck, Leilani."

He walks out of the cell, and the rest of the girls sit there in an awkward silence waiting for someone to be the first to break the tension. A few seconds later the bell rings letting us know that count is over, and I crawl back into my bed and get under the covers.

"I don't want to move," I say to the other girls. "This just really put a damper on my mood."

"Well, it's not like it takes a lot, Lei." says one of the girls quietly.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" I say bitterly.

"You're very high strung for someone who is all into the earth is what we're saying." says the girl as she grabs her shower towel from her top bunk and walks to the door. "It might not be a bad thing to loosen up."

She walks out of the room, and I am left alone as one by one the rest of my cellmates file out. I lie in bed and close my eyes and imagine being in the ocean and feeling the sand between my toes as the waves crash over my feet.

"There's gotta be something better than this," I mutter to myself.

* * *

 _It's a different issue on how I feel about our last tribute being introduced. Like another one of our tributes, he also has Aspergers, but unlike that tribute, it is much more apparent on the tribute about to be introduced. You see, it's interesting how the mind can be so different depending on who you are._

 _The mind is the most powerful thing that a human can possess. But what happens when the mind is the very thing that is causing you to use those powers for evil? When the mind allows you to justify your actions as you see fit?_

 _Prisoner number S18838944405 Toby Griffiths. Charged with murder in the first degree. Sentenced to rehabilitation in a mental health hospital, and anger management classes. Not eligible for parole._

* * *

 **Toby Griffiths, 14**

 **Eastern Male**

I hate avocados.

People don't understand the hate that I have for them, but they're gross. They're soft and gooey, and then they also have to be peeled, but if you leave them unused for too long they get hard like a rock, and I'm just not here for it.

They make me feel gross on the inside. I get all cringe just even thinking about them.

One time, in the cafeteria, they had Mexican food Monday, and I was so excited because I love tacos. But when we were going through the line, they mixed the meat with avocados, and boy was I angry. I threw my tray at the cafeteria helper, and they put me in a room with pillows on the walls. It took me a long time to calm down, but they knew I don't like avocados so what were they even thinking?

I reside in the Hopkins Criminally insane institute. It's a place where bad little teenagers come in, and they seek help for their problems in their head. They tell me that my problem isn't too bad, but I need to learn how to control myself, and they feel I will do better here than in jail.

But I don't understand why I need to go to jail. I was helping Louise. He was her avocados.

* * *

 _Toby is a bit scatter brained in explaining things. For clarity, I'll allow you to read the note that his sister left him when she took her life. It was the boy's token in the arena, and he asked me to hold onto it for safe keeping until he got out. I wrote it down in my journal for safe keeping._

 _Dear Toby,_

 _My dear little brother, you mean so much to me. Your view on the world is such a beautiful and unique thing, and I want you to know that I will always love you. Mom and dad try their hardest, Tobs. I know sometimes they don't seem like they care, but know, they always do._

 _I am so sorry to leave you like this. To be honest, ever since I was attacked, I can't find it in me to continue. It's scary. Every time I turn a corner I see his face. Every time I close my eyes I feel his breath on my neck. I feel like how you do when you see an avocado, Toby._

 _What that man did was disgusting, but I'm weak. I can't fix myself. I can't be strong like you. I'll always be watching you, just know that it'll be doing it from a little farther away._

 _I love you with all of my heart,_

 _Louise_

 _So you see, Toby didn't understand why his sister left him until he read the sentence about avocados. Then it all made sense._

* * *

When I was on trial for getting the man that hurt her, I tried explaining to the judge that he was Louise's avocado, and I figured if I can't get all of my avocados out of the world I can at least get my sisters and help her out.

But the judge wasn't too impressed with my ideology, and he sent me here instead of home. I miss my home. I had a cool bed, and you could use the bedframe as a giant puzzle. It's how I set my alarm off in the morning. I would sit there and just randomly configure the alarm so I could redo the puzzle over and over again. It got to the point where my parents got me a digitized bed frame where a puzzle would appear on a touch screen. Every morning it was a new one.

Here all I have is a bed with straps on them. They put me in them when they need to give me my medicine, but I don't like it because it's green, and in turn reminds me of avocados. They get very frustrated with me, and sometimes I'm okay when they touch me, but there are other times where I'm like, no. Don't do that.

They just don't get it. I try to be the person that they want me to be, and to be good and make good choices, but they say that though I have good intentions, my actions that I take to make the good happen is sometimes wrong. That's why they tried to make me apologize to Louise's avocado's family. But I wouldn't do it.

The truth is I don't feel bad. Sure, I killed someone, but he hurt someone else. And not just that, but now she's gone. I am not exactly sure how I'm supposed to feel about her being gone, but I know that I do sometimes think about her and it makes my heart have a weird feeling inside that I'm not sure what it is.

I don't feel it often though.

Dad and mom won't visit me anymore because they say that I look too much like Louise. I'm not too upset about that though. They weren't interested in me ever when I wasn't in the hospital. I just kind of did my own thing, and they had Louise watch me.

"Toby," says that lady that I've been sitting in this room with. "You haven't answered any of my questions that I've asked you."

"Yes, I have," I whisper.

"No, you didn't," she says. "Why don't we start by talking about how you feel about your sister's death."

I already answered these questions in my head. I don't see a point in saying them out loud.

I look around the room and see tons of things that I could tear apart and put back together. Seeing how they fit together, placing them back, maybe forgetting some every once in awhile. It's a fun part of being in the hospital.

"Toby?" asks the lady.

But I continue to imagine breaking the things apart.

* * *

 **-A Year Later-**

 **Tahan Jacobs, 19**

 **First Victor of the Games**

We walk into the secret bunker of President Ophelia Veyne around nine o' clock the same night that the bombs went off. The minute I saw all the wreckage I knew I would end up seeing her again. When we walk into the bunker, she is sitting on her couch walking old footage of the games from my year. She points to the sofa when we walk into the room. "Ah, my two victors," she says with a smile. "Please, do take a seat."

"What do you want?" I ask not bothering to take a seat.

"Still haven't changed after a year, Tahan." says the president coldly. "Tell me, where was this spunk when you killed Emily Emerson? You remember her right? The first blood you ever spilled."

"That was an accident, and you know it." I snap back at the President.

"Oh please, how many people do you know trip and accidentally stab someone. Sit. Now." she barks as she points to the couch. We move over to the sofa, and we sit down. I don't remove my stern face as I look at her in the eye. She smiles.

"You know, whether you believe it or not, I rather like you two. There's something about you two that make me smile. You're changed. I've molded you into something great. Something strong." she begins. I know better than to interrupt this drabble. "You were both just little monsters when you came in, although Tahan, you were technically innocent," she says. "I watched you two become something though. So it's sad that I have to see you come to an end."

"What?!" says the other Victor that sits to my right. They brace themselves for a fight when a guard comes and shoves them down to the seat. "You can't do this!?"

"You're a liability." says the President with a sad look. "It's nothing personal, kid."

"You aren't going to touch us," I say confidently as she walks over to the china cabinet in the corner of the room and pulls out a gun. She cocks it and walks back over to the couch.

"Oh?" she says. "Why is that?"

"Because I have a little birdie who is going to squeal where the President's secret bunkers are the second I stop replying in the allotted time that we have arranged. Someone that is very close to let's say, Imogen and Klause Mercay?" I say with a sly smile.

"Who are you referring to?" ask the President with a frightened look on her face. Everyone in this room knows exactly who I'm talking about.

"You _know_ who," I say with a smile.

"You told _her_?!" asked the President as she stares at me with a slack jaw. "Tahan, you're a traitor to this country."

"This country was a traitor to me." I retort back.

"Find something original dear; maybe you shouldn't make speeches from a terrorist right now. How do you even know where she is?!"

"I helped her escape," I say confidently.

The President turns a shade of red as dark as her hair as she stares at me with a distasteful look. I pull out my phone and begin texting, and she points at the guard to grab my phone, but I smack his hand away.

"You're going to want me to answer this," I say. "Trust me."

The phone rings and I smile as I answer it and turn it on speaker.

"Hello?" I ask innocently

"Tahan?" ask a familiar voice. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yes," I say. "We are both fine. We were just leaving somewhere and heading back to my home. Right?" I ask in a questioning tone.

The President waves her hands and the guard lets both me, and the Victor of the second games get up. We walk back towards the door as the girl is still on the phone. "You're with her right now aren't you?" she asks me.

"Yup, she came for me as soon as she was secured in the place I told you about. Thanks for calling after the broadcast."

"It was the least I could do; you saved my life after all. See ya, let me know when you're home." says the girl as she clicks off and hangs up the phone. I look at the guard who drove us over to the bunker and smile.

"I want chicken; you picked me up right as my mother was serving dinner. If there is a place that is still open after today, I'm going to need you to stop there. President Veyne will gladly take the cost of it, right?" I ask as I walk out of the house to the President screaming and throwing things around her bunker.

* * *

 _I said it before, and I'll say it again. This story does not have a happy end. From this point on disaster is going to stirke. Heart breaks are going to happen, and you're probably going to wish you never opened this journal. This is the part of these tribute's stories that hits home. I hope that you all reading this understand that this is more than just a story. These aren't just characters I've made up on a page. These are real people. With real history._

 _Until next time,_

 _Anonymous_

 **Well, this was the last reaping chapter! This is the last time we see anything from the future until we are actually in the future you know? Haha, but I enjoyed writing those subplots. We will still see the narrator throughout the story, and I have finally decided who it is, so yay for me being productive? Am I right?**

 **Remember there are two chapters until the bloodbath. We have two getting to know you type situation, and then I decided not to do a revealing chapter for story reasons. I'm excited for the next part of this story. Due to how short of time I have, not everyone will get a second POV before the games start. But I'll try to get them one before they die. (Don't freak out if you see your tribute. I wouldn't be that obvious.) I also have no idea who my bloodbath is. I just know how many are dying.**

 **Thanks for reading. Remember to catch up on reviews, because I like these characters and it might just come down to how much you were active in the story that can mean the difference between a bloodbath and a victor.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	16. Alliances: Part 1

_Dear Reader,_

 _Today we start a new part of our story. The part of betrayal._

 _Betrayal from a country who seemed never to care, and with the most resources in the world continued to wrong its citizens no matter the cost. Betrayal from the world that was full of such hope and promises. Betrayal from the place they were supposed to be safe._

 _This is only getting harder to write. Not just because El Vatos coming into houses without warrants and looking through things, not just because every essential liberty you were promised in the Constitution was stolen, but because my heart weeps._

 _It weeps because I knew this was happening. It weeps because I couldn't do anything to stop it. Because destruction is like the domino effect. One push and all the walls come tumbling down. The tributes are still finding that out._

* * *

 **Paisley Grace, 18**

 **Southern Female**

I was told this prison was for the creme of the crop, but all I see is creepers and nobodies. I've been here for exactly three days now, and not to mention I was drugged to get here, and now I sit and have to socialize with these people? I suddenly miss McManus.

Sitting on the couch in the center of the room I look around and see the other tributes. One boy is sitting in the corner reading an environmental book that gives me the whole "I killed my mother vibe." A girl is sitting with her room door open directly across from me. She's painting on a canvas. She looks young, but she has color in her hair, and unfortunately, I just can't take that seriously.

I continue looking down the long row of doors when I was hit with a smell that reminds me of home. It's roses, and it's the top of the line perfume that I used when I was home. There is someone who has the top of line perfume that I used when I wasn't incarcerated. There has to be someone here that I can relate to.

I get up from the couch and walk towards the scent of the perfume, and end up at the door with a pink and white frame on it. I knock, and a beautiful girl answers the door. The first thing I notice is her face, but there is something unnaturally cute about it. Almost like she got work done. Her hair is beginning to show the brown roots as well, but I can't exactly be picky in this place can I?

"Hi, my name is Paisley," I say with a smile. "I couldn't help but smell the perfume that you had on. It was the same one my mom used to wear before she died. So I started using when I got older-" I pause. "I'm not sure why I just said all of that."

"Come in." says the girl as she steps to the side and walks back to her vanity as she begins to put makeup on.

"So what's your name?"

"Used to be Dianna," she says. "Dianna McKee."

"Wait, as in McKee General Hospital, McKee amusement park, and McKee burgers?!" I say. "What the hell are you doing in prison?!"

"No, that used to be me," she murmurs. "I don't know who I am anymore."

It's about at this time I realize that I'm in way over my head with this girl. She's a few screws short of a working machine. I smile lightly as I turn around and begin to walk back out of the room when she continues talking to me.

"I didn't do it, you know," she says. "My dad hid a ton of drugs in the lining of my purse, and from there they proceeded to tell me that my entire life was a lie. I used to be ugly apparently."

"Yeah, I can notice that you might have had some work done." she flashes an angry look at me, and I hold my hands up in defense, and then pause again. No one has ever been able to intimidate me that way. This girl is batshit crazy, but she has a wild side that's empowering. "You were "that girl," weren't you?" I ask her trying to change the subject.

"What do you mean?"

"The girl that has everything handed to her, all of the friends and resources money could buy, things like that?"

"Yes." she replies softly.

"Takes one to no one-" I begin before the door swings open and the creepy school shooter kid that was reading the environment book storms into the room.

"Are you aware that the perfume you're wearing is designed from real roses?! You're killing this beautiful planet to release greenhouse gases and other fumes!" he says as he turns and looks at me. "Oh, the hell!" he screams. "How much hairspray do you put in your hair?!"

"I'm sorry, remind me who you are?" I say confused. "Because last time I checked on the wall out there, it tells you to knock before coming into a room."

"I'm in prison because I don't like rules." he says with a sly smile.

I begin to laugh really hard as he walks forward to me and slaps me across the face. Dianna is up and moving towards him before I can even react and knees him in the balls. He falls to the ground with an oomph, and she begins kicking him.

"You. Do. Not. Touch. Her." she was saying in between kicks. "Who the hell do you think you are kid?!"

I pull her off and she begins to cry as he slowly gets up from the ground. He's not sporting a bloody lip, and both of his eyes are now black. "My name is Garrison Upshur, and you just made the biggest mistake of your life," he says as he gets up and walks out of the room slamming the door behind him.

Dianna falls to the ground while my arms are still around her, and I fall with her. "Thank you," I say as she weeps into my shoulders.

"I am so sorry he did that to you." she says in between sobs.

"Sweetie, I'm more worried about you," I say. "What's wrong?"

She picks her head up from my shoulder and sits up. She wipes her eyes and then puts her face in her hands as she begins to breathe slowly. "My whole life was a lie." she starts to tell me the story, and though this girl has a lot of issues to get through, for the first time in a long period, I'm caring about someone other than myself. I can tell we are going to be good friends

* * *

 **Ethan Pancamo, 17**

 **Western Male**

Playing PS4 in your prison is room is hardly what I'd call fun. I know that most people don't get PS4's while they are in jail, but at the same time, isn't videogaming supposed to be a friend activity. I pause the game I'm currently in and lean my head back as I let out a loud sigh. I get up from the floor and go lay down on the bed.

I'm only lying down for 20 minutes, but it's 20 minutes that feel like a lifetime. There are exactly 22 different objects in my room, and exactly 10 of them are games for the Playstation. After the lie down I get up and walk out of my room towards the big couch in the middle of the giant living room we all have to share.

Today is a day where no one is in the living room today. There is a girl that has her door open, but she's painting, and she looks like she's hard at work. All the other doors are closed, and though I've seen everyone in the cafeteria and other places like that, it's been awkward, and we haven't known what to say. A couple of kids have formed together in groups, but I just wasn't outgoing enough I suppose.

I continue to look down the long rows of doors until my eyes catch sight on one door in particular. It's brown stained wood is a not only a door to the room itself but a pathway down memory lane. I smile as I think about all the fun times I had in that room.

Against my better judgment, I get up from the couch and walk towards the door. When I get to the room, I take a deep breath and then knock on the door. Ryan answers the door with a smile on his face, and then when he sees it's me his face quickly hardens.

"What do you want?" he asks me.

"I-," I begin. "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?"

He looks at me for a second and then rolls his eyes as he steps aside and allows me in his room. He walks back to his bed and presses play on the movie that he was watching before I knocked on the door.

"Some set up they have here right?"

"I think it's a little creepy how they got all of our rooms right," he says. "I don't know about you, but I am a little surprised. They got all the minor details down. Down to the hole in my wall when I found out you ratted." he says. "Like, how did they know all of that?"

"I was wondering the same thing," I say. We sit there quietly for a bit before I look over at him and smile. "Hey, I have Age of the Clash in my room if you're down to play?" I say. "I can always smoke you at it again."

"Ethen," he says looking at me with a chuckle. "You know very well I burned your ass everytime we played that together."

"Then you should have no problem playing me right now then, huh?" I jest as we continue to joke like the old times. I feel I'm slowly starting to get back to him.

Just then the PA system begins to blast throughout the prison, or the room, I'm not quite sure how big it is since all of our areas we go to are connected.

"The tributes houses are constructed and ready then?" ask a female voice that's cold and sharp.

"Yes, Ms. Veyne." says another voice, but then there is a long silence, and the PA system clicks off.

"What the hell was that?" ask Ryan

"What are tributes? Tributes to what? Did a popstar die we don't know about yet?" I ask confused as Ryan, and I both get up and walk out of the room. Other tributes are beginning to file into the main room with suspicious looks on their faces. We all gather at the sofa and look at each other.

"Did she say tribute's houses?" ask a pretty blonde girl. "And who are these tributes? Is that us?"

"I don't know," says a boy with a fierce and alerting attitude, "but we are about to find out," he says as he makes a beeline for Tahan's office.

* * *

 **Zoya Heda, 17**

 **Eastern Female**

We follow the boy with the intense look on his face to the door of Tahan's office. She is a small girl in stature, but there is something about her that sets her apart from everyone that I've ever met. There's a brokenness there, but also a quiet strength that I admire. I recognize it because I want it.

The boy knocks on the door, and she opens the door with a panicked look on her face, but it is only there for a quick second. She clears her throat and looks the boy directly in the face.

"Yes, Dominick?" she asks him curiously.

"Don't act innocent. You know something. What the hell is going on." he says getting closer to her and getting up in her face. Instead of backing away or flinching the girl just stands there. She looks him in the showing no emotions, and then without warning starts laughing in his face.

"You think this is funny, bitch?!" he asks as he continues to get closer to her, but finally her face changes and she shoves him.

"I can get loud too, Domnick," she says as she kicks off her heels and starts to take her earrings off. "If you wanna go down this road, post up, otherwise back the hell off of me," she says throwing her earrings on the sofa and then staring at him. He doesn't move from the sheer shock that the girl was able to stand up to him so ferociously. "Anyone else wants to try something like that? I'm not afraid of any of you. There are cameras everywhere. Even if one of you did overpower me, you'd be taken by the guards and put under cell arrest in a matter of minutes."

"You know something," says the beautiful girl. "Tahan, you know something. Please, tell us what it is."

A look of genuine concern flashes over the girl's face as she takes a deep breath and sighs. "I wish I could," she says. "I wish I could. All I can tell you is get to know each other. Form a bond. You're going to need it." she says as she closes the door, but Domnick places his foot in between the door and the frame.

"What are you talking about?!" he says

"Look!" she screams. "This isn't easy for me. I wish I could. I wish I could shout it from the rooftops, but instead, I'm trapped just like you. Just like you're a prisoner right now, I am one too. Only my prison isn't so plush." she says gesturing to the door. "I help however I can. I do what I can to help people in this place. There isn't one of you I haven't gone out of my way for." she says sorely. "But I can't tell you what is going on here. Just follow the advice I've given. It's the best way to prepare." she whispers, this time able to shut the door.

The others begin to look around when the door closes, and I make eye contact with the beautiful girl and the boy that lead the charge over here. He gestures for us to gather around and forms a huddle with us.

"Look, I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but she says to form bonds. I'm guessing this is going to be some team thing. Since we don't know what this is, I need to know I can trust the people I'm working with. I'd like it to be you three." he says. "Maybe the two guys that have mad beef with each other that I've noticed in the group too." He gestures for the two boys who are now sitting in the middle of the room on the couch, and they walk over.

"What's up?" says the blonde?

"We need to be a team." says the boy named Dominick plainly. "We need to have each other's backs. And fight through the rest of the riffraff during whatever they have coming."

"Like a makeshift alliance?" I ask.

"Yes," he says. "Exactly like that."

"Ryan." says the blonde boy as he sticks his hand in the middle of the group.

"Dianna."

"Ethan."

"Paisley."

"Domnick."

"Zoya," I say placing my hand on top of all theirs.

I'm not sure what just happened, but I'm pretty sure I'm a part of something.

* * *

 **Davantae Jones, 17**

 **Midwestern Male**

I don't like the look of that group over there. It's giving me a bit of anxiety just watching them huddle like that, and then these people are going to put their hands in the middle like this is some girl scout kumbaya stuff? Naw, fam. I have no time for this.

I look around at the people who aren't in that group currently. There is a girl who looks to be Hispanic sitting in the corner looking angry and pouty, and she looks like I can control her. I walk over to her and sit down.

"Listen, I don't have time to the front with you right now, but before you clap back here me out. I don't know why I have the feeling we are going to need people rather seriously in the next couple of days, but I feel we are. I think me and you could do some damage, but I was also thinking about bringing in the pale ghost looking chick."

"Who the hell are you?" she asks me confused.

"Bitch," I say rolling my eyes. "I don't know your name either, but if you want to go at this alone, then skirt," I say as I get up and begin to walk towards my room. I open the door and close it behind me when a couple of minutes later a knock at my door surprises me. I open it to see the Hispanic girl and Casper the friendly ghost walking in at the same time.

"Normally I just don't get up and come with people, but I felt she might shank me if I didn't," says Milky White as she looks over at the girl that was rude to me just a second before. "What do you want?" she says staring at me.

"Damn, why all you girls acting like you on your period or some shit?" I ask looking at them angrily. "I was trying to help _you_ out, and now you wanna talk sideways at me?"

She rolls her eyes and then sticks out her hands. "I ever do apologize. My name is Luna. Pleased to meet you." she says with a grimace on her face.

"What about you?" I ask the Hispanic girl. "What's your name?"

"My name is Aubrey." she says.

"Davantae," I say.

We sit there in an awkward silence as we stare at each other with nothing escaping our lips. Finally milky clears her throat and sits down.

"We need to take down that big group of people," she says. "I've seen what gangs can do, and that boy is a leader if I've ever seen one."

"What makes you say that?" says the fiery one.

"I used to be the leader of one." says the girl with the pale skin.

"Well, I didn't see that coming," I say with a chuckle. "What the hell happened?"

"Stabbed a girl 14 times for invading my turf," she says nonchalantly. "I don't mess around with what's mine."

Well damn, remind me not to get on this girl's bad side.

"How do we take them out, though?" asks Aubrey.

"Easy," says Milky White. "We start a rumor."

"About what?"

"About anything!" she says. "Those girls in that group, well at least legally blondes over there, are petty. You see it written all over their face. If we can make that team begin to distrust each other, we are solid to win whatever they are going to throw at us. I know what you're in for. Battery charges." she says pointing at the girl. "I was snooping through Tahan's office. They say there are cameras, but I'm not convinced. But what are you here for?" she says looking at me.

"Aggravated assault."

"My kind of people," she says with a smile. "So here's what we do."

* * *

 _With the forming of alliances is also the forming of something much darker than these children even realize. What they think will be just a competition, they will soon find out is a life or death match._

 _To be continued…_

* * *

 **Well, that was the first chapter. Can you believe that the bloodbath is in two chapters?! Two freaking chapters!**

 **Alliances**

 **Makeshift Careers: Ethan/Ryan/Paisley/Dianna/Zoya/Domnick**

 **Uncomfortably Hilarious: Davantae/Luna/Aubrey**

 **Loners: Basically everyone else.**

 **More to come. If you haven't submitted to Circle of Death by TitanMaddix, not only are you wrong, but you're tacky, and I hate you. Get on that.**

 **Just kidding...mostly.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	17. The Launch

******* STRONG STRONG STRONG TRIGGER WARNING: MIRANDA DESCRIBES A BIT OF HER CRIME (RAPE) IN THE SECOND POV. (There is nothing too graphic. Just how she managed to do it. I would never write the actual scene, but please, by all means, just don't read it if you are going to be triggered. No story, ESPECIALLY a fanfic, should leave you feeling any certain way when it comes to that.) Proceed with caution ******

* * *

 **Ashlynn Watson, 15**

 **Southern Female**

I've been talking to a couple of people here and there throughout my stay here at this new prison. The questionable thing is no one knows where exactly we are because everyone was drugged before being brought here. And I can't exactly tell them we were brought here for a death match without being punished severely.

"I think it's sweet that we have our stuff from home," says Lilianna with a smile. "It's nice seeing pictures of my family."

I think that's one of the hardest parts for me. The first thing I did when I walked into my room was take down the pictures they had all around them. I want nothing to do with my family anymore. Not after they've abandoned me the way, they did. I was doing what I was told.

"Yeah, no, seeing them just reminds me how much of a disappointment I am." says Sloane as she twirls a piece of her hair and continues to tie strands in a knot, and watch as they untie by themselves.

"I'm sure they don't think that," says Lilianna with a smile. "Plus, a little birdie told me that we have the opportunity to lessen our sentences here!" she says with a cheer in her voice that only she could muster. She creeps me out. Sloane, Lily, and I all got together mostly because we are close to the same age. Jemmy sometimes hands out with us, and then we all have a cool time and play cards, but he mostly stays to himself in his room.

"DAMNIT!" we hear shouting from the room next to me.

We get up from our various places scattered around the room and walk towards the door. When we exit we turn to see the girl that is always painting throwing her canvas out the door of her room. Lily has to jump to the side to avoid getting hit with the painting as it crashes to the floor. The girl's eyes go wide when she sees that she almost hit Lily and she runs over.

"I'm so so sorry!" she says. "I didn't realize people were so close."

"You're okay," says Lily. "What was going on?"

"I couldn't get the waves right." says the girl with a sad face.

I walk over to the painting and pick it up. It's a lovely picture of a beach with a hut behind it. The waves are washing over the shore in a gentle fashion, but you can see the area where she is talking about where it looks inconsistent. It looks like she needs to use less water on the brush.

"This is beautiful," I say handing her back the painting. She takes it in her hand and looks at it. She averts her eyes back to me moments later with appreciation glistening off of them.

"Thank you," she says smiling. "I'm Rhendee,"

"I'm Ashlynn, and this is Sloane and Lilianna."

"You can call me Lily though!" says Lilianna with an optimistic, upbeat expression. The painter looks at me and gives me a look that reads "is she always this peppy," to which I respond with a nod of my head and a chuckle.

"I thought I heard you guys out here!" says a male voice. "There is only so much computerized poker a man can take. Any of you down to play a couple of hands?"

"Yeah!" says Lily with a smile. "I'm always down to play. Something about this place sucks the fun out of life, but games are always so fun!"

We walk to a table that line the sides of the room and each take a seat as Jemmy begins to deal cards out. He smiles as he sees Rhendee, apparently noticing her for the first time. "My name is Jemmy."

"Rhendee," she says.

We begin to play a few hands, and Jemmy starts to sweep us like he normally does. Sloane managed to get a couple of hand wins, but that's because she's always so quiet. Around the sixth hand, Jemmy is dealing out the cards when he looks over at us with a worried expression.

"What's up?" ask Sloane.

"I stay next to that Domnick guy, and he had a group of people in his room last night. They were talking about alliances, and I'm not sure why but I have an uneasy feeling about this. Even if this is just prison politics, I don't want to fall on the blade with them in power."

"So what are you suggesting, Jem?" asked Lily as she looks at her hand. "Ugh," she says with an eye roll. "I fold."

"I'm saying we need to form an alliance. The diaper alliance."

"Excuse the hell out of me?!" I ask him confused.

"We're the youngest ones in here," he says. "Other than the weirdo who does Puzzles all day," he says quickly. "Diaper Alliance is funny."

"I'm okay with an alliance," says Sloane, "but we aren't calling it that."

"We surely are not," says Rhendee as she looks at him with confusion, but Jemmy just sits there and laughs.

* * *

 **Raquel Rimmel, 18**

 **Western Female**

This crazy chick named Miranda follows me every which way I go. There's never a moment where I'm alone. It seems every time I turn around she's there. Every time they wake us up for the morning time she comes to my room. Every time I come back to be by myself in my room, she's there.

She's like the stalker in one of those cheesy summer horror flicks.

A knock at my door has my eyes rolling into the back of my head as my stalker doesn't even wait for me to open the door, but just walks into my room. She smiles as she walks directly to the desk and sits down.

"Hello, Raquel."

"Yes, Miranda?"

"I just wanted to come hang out." says the girl as she leans back in the desk chair she currently is sitting in. "I needed to talk about Aaron again."

You know, in all honesty, I don't think Miranda would be that bad if she spoke of something more than this guy she has back home. I can't even say how many times I've heard things like their first kiss stories, or that time they sand a duet together, or that time he scaled a tower to climb her hair.

She still hasn't told me what she's in here for. That makes me nervous too.

"Before that," I ask. "What are you in here for again?"

"I never mentioned it," said Miranda as she starts to inspect the things on my desk. She runs her fingers over one of the figurines, but then has a surprised reaction to it, and throws it back down. It doesn't break, but she was very rough.

"I'd prefer you not to touch my stuff," I say firmly. "I would also prefer you to tell me why the hell you're in prison. You know why I'm here."

"Did you know that the Capital of Canada is Ottowa?" she asked me genuinely.

"What?" I ask confused.

"Or that the Capital of Britain is London?"

"Miranda that's not what I'm asking-"

"One time, Aaron and I saw a play together, and the whole cast said that they wanted to go to London. There was something about the accents that set them in a tizzy," says Miranda. "I told Aaron he wasn't allowed to like other women's accents because the only accent he should like it mine."

"MIRANDA!" I scream. "WHAT ARE YOU IN FOR?!"

"AARON LIED AND TOLD THE COPS I RAPED HIM!" she screams back as she gets up shoves me into the mattress. My heart stops beating from fear as she shoves me down and leaves her hands on my shoulders. "He lied," she says sternly. "He lied, I didn't even have to force him with the knife like I thought I was. I just gave him a drink, and he got exhausted, but everything still worked the same," she says. "My therapist told me I did it, but I didn't, Raquel. You have to believe me."

"Leave," I say

Her eyes go from pleading for me to understand to anger as she gets up and shoves me to the bed again. "Listen here, Raquel, you look too much like Aaron for me to disappear, and if he's with that slut Sindy, you better believe that I am holding onto the little pieces of him that I can. You will not abandon me like him."

"What are you talking about?!" I say confused

"You. Will. Not. Abandon. Me. Too." she says as she sits back down in the seat.

"Miranda, what is wrong with you?" I ask quickly.

"Some people say Aspergers. Other just say I'm a complete loon," she says as she goes back and grabs the figurine on the desk. "Others say that I like to get what I want, at all cost," she says as she snaps the head off of the figurine and lays it back on the desk. "Good morning, Raquel. Hope you have a fantastic day," she says as she gets up and walks out the door

* * *

 **Domnick McKnight, 18**

 **Southern Male**

I can't describe the feeling I have today, but it's not a good one. There's something that's going to happen that is going to change everything we have going in here, and I know it's probably whatever that hot chick is always walking around here told us to form alliances for, but I can't help but wonder why I'm feeling all of these disturbed emotions.

"She said that?!" says a prissy voice coming from a few rooms over. I know it belongs to Paisley because of the light accent she has on some of her words. It would be an attractive quality if she weren't spoiled and rude.

My instincts start telling me to see what is going on, and when I do, I see Paisley in her room talking with the girl that looks like a ghost. The girl is talking with her hands a lot and giving Paisley sympathetic looks as Paisley's continue to grow more and more angry.

One of the most important parts of running a gang is the instincts you have when you run it. You have to be able to read people, and you have to be able to know what they're doing sometimes even before they do. I've had my suspicions about this girl because I never take a personal appearance at face value. She knows what she is doing. She's not dumb. Something tells me there's more to little ghost than she's letting on.

I walk to Paisley's door and knock on the frame. Both the pale girl and Paisley stop talking and look at me. Paisley takes a deep sigh when she seems and points to the door for the girl that's been telling her the disturbing news.

"Thank you for telling me. I won't forget that" she says as she girl gets up to leave.

The girl looks over at me and then back at her with a smile. "Of course, it's the least I can do."

She tries to walk past me, but I hold out my hand as if to meet her. "Domnick."

"Luna." she says taking my hand slowly and shaking it.

"What are you in here for, Luna?" I ask trying to see if she'll tell me the truth. I don't know what she's in for, but I'm pretty good at telling when people are lying.

"Theft," she says. "I had to steal a car."

"Why?" I ask, knowing that the story is a 100% lie.

"Mom went into labor," she says effortless as she turns and walks back to her room. Little ghost has skills.

I turn back to Paisley when I see her close the door behind her room, and she looks at me with an exasperated look. "Dianna is such a BITCH!" she says as she begins to go through her stuff and throw things around the room. "I sit there, and I help this girl with all of her problems, listen to her cry, tell her that God awful nose job is acceptable, and she tells people that I ate people and that's why I'm in prison?! What the hell?!"

Now I'm not an expert on girls. I never actually took much of interest in dating when I was out of prison, but Paisley is ridiculous if she thinks for a second that Dianna, who can barely even acknowledge the fact that she's in here, is going to lie about the only person that seems to care about her.

"Paisley, that girl was messing with you," I say

It's time to start some serious group control. I didn't want to have to take the leadership position in this group, but I see that the leader is the only thing that I can be when times like this are happening. I will not allow this team to fall apart because of petty girl drama.

"How do you know?!" she snaps. "You don't even talk to her!"

"I know you two well enough that you consider yourselves true friends. I see it in the way that you act and hold yourselves, and I see it in the way that you are genuinely hurt right now when someone just ruined your idea of friendship."

"You're right," she coos. "She probably didn't say that. Emotions are just running high in here, you know?"

"I know it's a scary game." he says.

"Tributes," says the PA speaker. "Please report to the common room. Again, Tributes, please report to the common room

* * *

 **Luna Koski, 15**

 **Eastern Female**

That little prick ruined half of my plan! I was going to get Paisley so fed up with the other one that she was going to make them pick. I guess we will have to wait for whatever event is going to start for my other plan to come into effect. I'll break their walls soon enough.

Every wall has a crack.

We walk out into the circular room and all stand in front of our doors. The room is quiet as we wait for instructions, and the PA system finally clicks on after about two minutes.

"Tributes, it is now time to start what we've all been waiting for." says the PA system.

The doors to our rooms close behind us and lock themselves. Some people scream as they try to run back into the room that they were just in moments ago, as the PA system continues to speak about what is going to happen.

"Tributes, fear not, for the time has come. Please lay down on the floor."

"What?" ask a boy sitting next to me with the obsession with avocados. "Uh, uh," he says defiantly. "No way."

"Tributes, this is your last warning to lay down."

Everyone but the boy next to me does, and the room is suddenly being filled with white gas. We all start screaming as the kid standing next to me drops to the ground unconscious. I can see why they wanted us on the ground. We all try to hold our breaths and run for the door, but they knew better. It was locked. There's no way out of this gas chamber. I stop walking around and lay on the floor. Taking a deep breath of the white gas, I feel myself instantly get dizzy.

* * *

I wake up in my room again. They're getting creepy with this "we are going to drug you and then place you in your room" thing that they have going on. I look around the room, and everything feels groggy, except there's one thing out of place.

Sitting directly in front of my bed is a television. I never wanted a tv in my room. It was too distracting towards the goals I had. I get up to walk out of the room, but when I get to the door, it's locked.

"Tributes," says a voice coming from the television. "Welcome to the arena of the Second Annual Hunger Games."

"What?" I ask myself confused.

"Please leave the room and walk into your front yard." says the voice as my room door opens by itself. I carefully walk through the frame and then down the stairs of my house. I start to see the other tributes coming out of their houses, and see instantly that two tributes live in a lot of luxury.

"Tributes," says the voice as everyone files in. "I now have exciting news. You have been picked for a great honor, that not many people have gotten to do." says the voice. Suddenly a picture comes up against the largest house on the block, and Dianna steps to the side to see President Ophelia Veyne sitting in a desk. "Just this last year, your warden Tahan, won these games. It was truly a shining moment in the history of our country. One that will be remembered by her until the day she dies."

"What are we doing?" asked the boy who is always playing cards.

"You are about to have to do something a little unconventional." says the President. "Over the next few days, you will be fighting to the death. One of you will win and be exonerated of all your charges, and from there you will also get a full ride to any university you want. As well as 350,000$ cash." says the President.

"What?!" we all pretty much say in unison as she continues to talk.

"Tributes, in 60 seconds the games are about to begin. It's a killed or be killed environment. You have a choice to make." says the President. "To live up to this country's motto "Home of the Brave" or to die in a cowardice way. The 60 seconds starting now. I suggest you figure out a game plan."

I instantly start looking around where we are. There seems to be one large street in here, but the street is attached to a forest on the right side, and a lake on the left side. The other tributes are looking around freaking out, but I'm not going to allow them to see me upset. I'm not going to die here either. I might not want to kill any of these people, but I'm not afraid to do what I have to to survive.

A giant clock appears on Dianna's house again, and the number 60 comes into view and begins counting down.

 **Well, that was our launch. The bloodbath is next. This game is a little unconventional, but I'm excited about this point. Just a reminder if you didn't review don't expect to see your character alive for very long. I'm not petty; I just don't think it's fair to keep someone alive when the author isn't reading.**

 **On that note, I have until my top 5 places. How this will go is someone will die, or at least someone maybe sometimes more, every chapter. This was such a fun time exploring the world that I built, and I'm anxious to finish this and the sub-plot.**

 **The bloodbath will be posted either tonight or early tomorrow.**

 **Alliances:**

 **Makeshift Careers:** Dianna/Domnick/Paisley/Ethan/Ryan/Zoya

 **Uncomfortably Hilarious:** Luna/Aubrey/Davantae

 **Diaper Alliance:** Jemmy/Ashlynn/Lily/Sloane/Rhendee

 **1-800-SAVE-RAQUEL:** Miranda/Raquel

 **Loners:** Leilani/Bentley/JJ/Toby/Marshall/Shaun/Roman/Garrison

 **I did anticipate a lot of loners. But just because they're alone for now doesn't mean they will be the entire games...except if they die :D**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	18. Bloodbath

_Dear Reader,_

 _The moment we have been discussing is finally coming to fruition. These 24 people are about to have their lives changed forever. One person will walk out of this arena alive, while 23 other are laid to rest forever._

 _I must warn you I will hold no details back. We will discuss what is happening in great detail. Blood was shed, hearts were broken, relationships were betrayed._

 _You might see tear marks as I recall the events of this tale. Because as much as I know this story needs to be told I have longed for this point never to come. Because once I write these events down, it's permanent. It's cemented into eternity. Forever holding the burden of these deaths for everyone to see._

 _I strongly encourage you if you're of the faint heart to close this book now. Because once these people start dying, there isn't any turning back. Once you read about the first death, you're an accomplice to this and have an obligation to bring it to the light._

 _But you don't have a faint heart; you couldn't have a heart. Not if you're reading something like this. Not if you're finding enjoyment. You see, some of you have convinced yourself this is just another story. Some make believe the tale that parents tell their kids when they're misbehaving, so they follow their instructions._

 _But it isn't. This is real life. This is the truth. This is a legacy we have to bear as a nation. Or former nation. The United States isn't an existing entity anymore._

 _With all of those warnings being said, and without further ado, I give you the bloodbath of the Second Annual Hunger Games. May those that lost their lives rest in peace._

* * *

 **Garrison Upshur, 18**

 **Southern Male**

Wait, so you're telling me that not only do I have _permission_ to kill these people, but I get to win and get cleared of all my charges? This is something that I can get behind. Who said America screwed me over? This game is mine for the taking. This moment is mine to steal.

I scan the crowd in search for that stupid blonde girl that attacked me. She will be my first victim. She will be the first person to feel the pain of Garrison Upshur, and the wrath that I can inflict on someone. I will enjoy her kill. I will enjoy the time I get to spend as I watch the life drain from her eyes.

She has the biggest house on the lane where the timer is starting to count down. It says 20 seconds on the timer, but I don't see the problem in going a little early. I begin to walk off my lawn, but suddenly feel a sharp electric current that shoots through my entire body. I fall to the floor screaming, and then climb back onto the grass. It is then I notice the ankle bracelet that is attached to my body.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

"TRIBUTES! YOU MAY GO FORWARD!" screams the announcer. Everyone pauses as the bracelets fall off of our ankle. No one really moves as we all just stand and stare at each other. I was the first to make a move as I begin to walk towards the house of Dianna. As I enter the streets the other kids start to move, and I'm shocked to see the knives and other objects that line the road.

I pick up one of the many knives and put them in my pocket just in case something goes wrong and I need to get her the old fashion way, with a knife in the throat.

I walk onto her lawn, and she looks a little nervous as I approach her. She gives me an uneasy feeling as I creep closer and closer to her. She starts to move away, and by the time I'm five feet away she starts to run from her lawn, but I'm already on top of her. I push her down and begin to squeeze her neck as I watch the life drain out of her eyes. She struggles to breathe and she is gasping for breath as she struggles to hold onto the last bit of life. I smile as I see her begin to fade, but then I feel a sharp pain in my back.

I fall off of Dianna to see the other blonde girl standing over me. She has a scared look in her eyes, and her hand over mouth as I feel the knife that she just stabbed into my back. Tears well up in her eyes as she looks to Dianna who is slowly regaining her breath, and the rest of their little posse they formed follow behind. I begin to cough up blood, and the boy that I presume is the leader walks over to me with a knife and cuts my throat.

Everything starts to fade as I watch them begin to converse about my death around me.

* * *

 **Sloane Disanto, 16**

 **Western Female**

"You just killed someone!" I scream at the blonde girl as I run over to the boy that she just stabbed. "You just took his life!"

"He was killing Dianna!" she says with tears streaming down her face. "I didn't know what to do!"

"There were other ways that this could have been handled other than killing him! This is crazy, guys, we are people. We can't just go around killing other people!" I say.

"We don't exactly have a choice." says the boy with the square hair. "They just stated that it is the only way that I can get out of this situation alive. 23 of us are going to die, and one lives. I can't die here." says the boy. "I've given up to much."

I'm not sure what quite happened next. I remember getting pulled off of the dead boy and flung to the other end of the lawn, and I remember my friends running back to fight with the other group of people to try and diffuse the situation, but things turned sour fast.

The girl with the big house turned and ran with the two other girls in their group while the two boys went to work to fight for them. One of the boys grabbed me and threw me down hard to the ground, and I landed with a loud thud. My head bounced up after hitting the lawn, and I see literal stars surrounding my head as the fighting continues. One of the boys picks me up and swings me around by my hair. I scream out and then a high pitch scream sends everyone into shock waves. We all stop as Rhendee falls to the ground with a knife in her chest.

We are all quiet as the second kill of the games has happened, and now it's a free for all to see who gets to the end.

In the confusion of Rhendee's death, Lily and Ashlynn grab ahold of me and run towards the other end of the arena towards the woods. Jemmy is right behind us, and we begin to climb our way throughout the woods and through the trees. We don't stop for breath even if we need it. We just know that we need to get the hell away from everyone in this neighborhood.

* * *

 **Miranda Chang, 16**

 **Western Female**

I can't find Aaron-I mean Raquel anywhere. She is busy running around the neighborhood no doubt, but the tributes are running everywhere, and I'm scared she's going to end up dead along with the other two that lay on the rich girl's lawn.

"RAQUEL!" I scream as I run and am currently jumping fences on the left side of the street. I'm running in such a blind frenzy I don't even notice the pool as I run straight into it. I come up gasping for breath and then climb out and begin to breathe slowly as I try and think about where Raquel could be.

It is then that I notice that over in the next house there is a treehouse, and I see two people struggling up at the top.

"Raquel?" I ask as I walk over to the fence and climb to the top. I'm just tall enough to see into the tree house when I see Raquel struggling with a boy. He's trying to push her out, and I can see her fighting. He's overcoming her.

"RAQUEL!" I scream as I fully jump over the fence and run towards the tree house. When I get there, I'm taken aback by how tall the tree truly is. It has to be at least 10 feet. Any parent that let their kid play in this thing was surely out of line.

I begin to climb to the top of the treehouse, and barely make it through the hatch as Raquel and the boy who likes puzzles is fighting throughout the treehouse. He is pushing at her saying "Out!" over and over again, but Raquel is refusing to leave. I wish she would just come with me.

"Raquel!" I say. "Let's go! Just leave the brat!"

"Miranda go away!" she says angrily as she is pushing the child away from her. Everytime she gets out of his grasp for a second he jumps right back on top of her. "I'm fine! I don't want to be with you!" she says as the boy continues to grab her.

"Out, out, out!" he says. "Get out!"

They both fly to the other end of the treehouse where the window is, and the boy suddenly becomes furious. He begins shoving Raquel hard in the chest, and the suddenly she tips out the window.

"AARON!" I scream as the boy, and I both watch her fall. She hits the ground, and she lands on top of her neck. There is a loud crack, and her neck is bent at an impossible angle. Aaron-I mean Raquel is gone.

"Now you!" says the boy. "You out!" he says as he begins to push me. I have a wave of anger that overpowers me to the point where I'm not even sure what's come over me. I grab the boy by the back of his shirt and begin to swing around. He screams as he continues to spin, and continues to try and grab on to me, but I continue to maneuver out of his reach. With all of my strength, I begin to drag us both towards the window that he just pushed Raquel out of, and when we get close enough to where he can fall I swing him towards the window and let go. Sure enough, he falls to the ground with a loud thud.

Similar to Raquel he is bent in an impossible fashion, and his eyes are wide as he lies there motionless.

"That's what you get for killing the one thing that reminds me of Aaron!" I say as I spit towards the ground.

I look around at the treehouse and see it has a cute little getup. There is a hammock that stretches across the inside of the tree, and a cabinet with some food inside of it. I place a giant toy chest that was in the center of the room over the latch that lets people in and then sits down in the hammock as I try and process what I should do next.

"Aaron," I mutter under my breath. "I will make it back to you," I say with a murmur as I swing on the hammock. "One way or another, you will be mine."

* * *

 **Shaun Lewis, 18**

 **Midwestern Male**

I've been following the pale girl and her group for awhile now. I can't help it. There's something about her that is so appealing to me; I can't help but want to be near her.

"Out of everything I was expecting," says the girl with dark hair. "I wasn't expecting this at all."

"This is some whack ass shit, man." says the only boy in their group. How I long to take his place and to be near that fantastically attractive woman. I stop behind a tree and wait for them to walk different ways because if I continued with the angle they're walking in, they would see me.

"We need to do whatever it takes to win." says the girl with the pale skin. "We can't let the fact that these are real people get in the way," she says harshly. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm seriously turned on by her ruthlessness right now.

I watch as they continue to walk and try to follow when I step on a significantly big stick. The snap makes all three people turn around, and they spread out to try and find the source of the noise. I turn around to run when a hand grabs me on the back and yanks me out into the clearing. I turn around and see the dark haired girl looking at me with soft eyes.

"Guys, should we just let him go?" she asked the two staring at me with a blank stare.

"We have to do what has to be done." says the pale girl.

"Ple-please don't kill me!" I say. "I can help you!" I say. "Yeah, I can help you get through this arena! I can-"

The pale girl takes her knife and slashes it across my throat. Blood starts to pour out of my neck and down the rest of my body, and I start to choke. I fall to the side as the blood continues to drain, and my eyes start to see things in a fuzzy lens. I try to breathe, but the oxygen never makes it my lungs.

"Sorry, kid." says the pale girl as she stands over me with the bloody knife in hand. "It was nothing personal. Just has to be done."

 **Well here is the bloodbath! I must say this was harder to write because I couldn't figure out who to kill. It was hard, and eventually I'm going to have to start killing characters I genuinely really like, and that's going to be hard…**

 **24th Place: Garrison Upshur, Southern Male, Killed by Paisley Grace:** Garrison was a resubmitted tribute. He would have been my villain that I took all the way to the end, but because of his resubmission status, and the fact I was informed about the resubmission, he was my first out. It sucks because I genuinely had so many plans for this character, but I can't STAND resubmissions. If you resubmit a character, most of the time I'm completely fine as long as you tell me. Not telling me makes me mad because another author has already put in the work for this tribute. Sorry. But not sorry.

 **23rd Place: Rhendee Ward, Southern Female, Killed by Unstated (Credited to Domnick McKnight):** Mystical this came back down to the fact that you didn't review, and I didn't know where to go with Rhendee. I hope you don't hate me, and I hope that you're still good and submit to my next SYOT. You write very good characters, I just needed a sacrificial lamb, and unfortunately it was Rhendee.

 **22nd Place: Raquel Rimmel, Western Female, Killed by Toby Griffiths:** I never knew what to do with Raquel. I honestly had her in there and I thought she was a great character, but I don't believe I did her justice, and for that I'm terribly, terribly sorry. I hope I didn't butcher your character. Thanks for submitting.

 **21st Place: Toby Griffiths, Eastern Male, Killed by Miranda Chang:** Oh Toby, my little avocado hating smol bean. We can be honest and say he wasn't realistically going to make it far in this game. He wasn't quite able to comprehend what was going on, let alone understand why he was convicted. Because of those reasons I didn't see him making it far. Sorry, Mik.

 **20th Place: Shaun Lewis, Midwestern Male, Killed by Luna Koski:** Okay, Sally, I'm sorry. Honestly, Shaun gave me the CREEPS when writing him. I can find myself in a lot of uncomfortable mind sets when writing a character. This one was just too much for me to handle. Want me to write a serial killer? Homie I got you. Want me to write a thief? Homie I got you. Want me to write a rapist? I just couldn't. Miranda is different, because she's not controlled by an addiction like Shaun. I felt the only way to keep him around was for him to commit his crime again and I couldn't do it. I really couldn't.

 **I was recently corrected on the fact my chapters had song lyrics in them. So if you got a hell of a lot of emails from me today, I apologize. I was fixing my story.**

 **I'm exhausted, and not feeling well. Sorry if this sucked.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	19. Day 2: Part 1

_Dear Reader,_

 _After the events of the last chapter, you need to understand that it doesn't get any better. For Garrison, Rhendee, Raquel, Toby, and Shaun it was the end of the road. Their stories ended the minute they died during the bloodbath._

 _And I watched it live and unfolding._

 _I wept for these tributes. I wept for their lives that ended so abruptly and without any warning. I want nothing more than to bring them back. I want nothing more than to change history._

 _This is day 2, and I wish I could say it gets better from here, but it doesn't._

* * *

 **Roman Darmadi, 17**

 **Southern Male**

* * *

I am still really confused about what just happened. I can't say that I'm surprised. This country has never really been kind to my people. Let alone anyone that resembles the slightest bit of difference.

What drives me absolutely fucking insane is that the one girl that can understand what I am going through or my thought processes is with the giant group of Ken and Barbies. It drives me crazy that she wouldn't want to associate with someone of her kind, rather than people that are holding her in a group merely for convenience.

But that's life, and it's what my sister did, so I don't know why I expected any different from a complete stranger who doesn't know me. I don't even know what she could be in for? She doesn't seem like the kind to murder. She doesn't look like the kind to steal. So I wonder what old Uncle Sam charged her with.

Nonetheless, it doesn't matter now. It's her or me, and it has to be her. I need to win this. I need to get back to my sister so that she can face me for the betrayal she did to our family and our people.

I've been staying in the house of one of the boys that died yesterday. I think his name was Toby. There is pictures of him everywhere, and I can tell what room is his because the bedframe is a digital puzzle. Lots of people left their ankle bracelets just sitting around after they fell off, but I picked mine up and kept it with me. I wanted to see if it would be used for anything else. Luckily I was right. The bracelet itself is a touch screen, and through that touch screen there is a variety of menus you can go through. One just happens to say death count. I was able to learn that 5 of us died yesterday, who it was, and where they were from.

I didn't really fool with the rest of the menus because of how exhausted I was. I made sure that I doubled down on the locks and other entrances into the house before I crashed for the night, and even when I crashed, I brought a mattress into the bathroom and boarded up. I managed to find a knife on the ground that I have, and the pantry, from what I can see, is fully stocked. As well as a full water system running. I don't have to be a complete slave to the system. They've still allowed me to shower.

I sit down on the mattress and pull the bracelet out from the drawer in the cabinet. It kept flashing on and off last night and waking me up. I begin to surf through the other menus when a particular menu catches my eye.

Written in great bolded letters are the words " **Criminal Histories.** " My heart skips a beat as I press the button and look down with great excitement. The first thing I do is go to the pictures of the tributes who are blacked out. I go in order of their placements, or at least the order the bracelets have them in.

I click on the boy that went for the Barbie princess and click his picture.

"Holy shit!" I shout. "He's a fucking serial killer?!"

I start hysterically laughing because I'm 99% sure that the other Barbie was the one that took him out. This idiot killed so many people to be taken out my Mercenary Barbie. What a fuckwit.

The rest of the dead tributes really didn't surprise me. The avocado boy was a bit surprising because he killed someone, but he always seemed a little off to me, so I'm trying not to be to surprised.

I scroll until I find a picture of the girl that looks like me. She is smiling in her picture. She looks happy, and like the world is so pure and happy. She was in for a rude reality check when these games started.

I click her picture, and her file pops up on the tiny screen of the bracelet. She's an immigrant. That's interesting to me. She is from Cairo, Egypt. That's even more interesting to me. That's the freaking Capital of the world war going on right now. The fact that she is in here must mean that she's a very high risk criminal.

And the government must be trying to sweep her under the rug.

I need to find this girl, and get her away from that group. Appeal to her better instincts and use her high risk as a weapon. I don't think any of those idiots were smart enough to keep their bracelets. The fact that I have all this information alone is amazing in itself.

"Watch out, Zoya," I say looking at her picture as I lay on the mattress. "I'm coming for you."

* * *

 **Zoya Heda, 17**

 **Eastern Female**

* * *

I'm not used to these people and their lifestyles. They're hard criminals for serious things. I've noticed that the boys are a little more on the rough side than the girls. I have to keep reminding myself that one of them can kill me at any moment. I've mostly been secluded in one of the many rooms in Dianna's old home.

We thought this would be the best place put up camp because there are so many rooms here. We are more likely to get away and it's also in a relatively close distance to the woods. We've made plans together, but if the worst comes to worse, I'm going to sneak away and follow my old plans.

I can't kill anyone in this neighborhood.

I don't know these people. They've never done anything to me, and now I'm expected to kill them and for what? Because the President is bored with their everyday life? And do I honestly think as an Egyptian immigrant that I would be granted amnesty? Absolutely not, especially with how much my home country has participated in the war.

"This is literally the most annoying thing I've ever experienced." says Ryan as he stands in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal. "Like honestly how hard would it have been to put a TV in the living room?"

"They can't risk us knowing what's going on." says Domnick as he looks at him with an expression that ask him how can he be so stupid. "Have you not noticed the guards walking around here? They're armed. Otherwise I would have walked the hell out of here the moment people started dying."

"How do they even get out of here?" ask Paisley as she looks at us confused. "I've never seen them actually enter."

"I'm not sure, but they were the ones picking up the dead people." says Dianna. She was really shaken up yesterday when the five faces appeared on her house yesterday. I can tell that this is hitting her hard and she isn't sure how to respond. She's been talking about the people that died yesterday with such a distance in her voice.

A knock on the door sends our entire group into a panic. Dianna and Paisley each grab the butcher knives they got from the kitchen instinctively as Ethan and Domnick move towards the front door. The rest of us scatter around the living room, but I make it a point to stand next to the back door in case I need to escape quickly.

We hear the door open and Domnick and Ethan come into the room with a guard following behind them. He is holding a pistol on his hip, and is in a full prison guard suit. He walks into the middle of the living room and looks around the room with a smile that is awkward, but at the same time pleasant. He clears his throat as he looks at everyone one last time before making an announcement.

"Tributes, I am here to inform you that you are no longer allowed to be in the houses between the hours of 10 am- 9 pm. The Presiden is complaining that there is not enough action happening throughout the arena, and we need to enforce this rule."

"Are you serious?" ask Paisley with an annoyed tone in her voice. "That's literally the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard?!"

"Well, that's how it has to be." says the guard. "If you look at the time it's now 10:08 am. Please take what few belongings you need for the adventure outdoors and file out of the house. You won't be allowed back in until 9."

"What if we need to use the bathroom?" I ask curiously.

"There's a whole forest out there." says the guard. He gives us the time to get our belongings together and then we walk out of the house. When we get outside there are other tributes that are on the street and everyone tenses up. I don't see the pale girl and the other two that left with her the other day, so at least not everyone is here right now.

"No I can't just kill him." says a boy next door looking at us with a twisted smile. I didn't see a lot of him because he didn't come out of his room. I don't know what his issue is.

"Excuse me?" asks Ethan looking skeptical at him.

"The voices are telling me to kill one of you." says the boy with a twisted smile. "They're being very naughty today." His face goes from smiling to a look of dispair as he falls to the ground and starts screaming. "Don't yell please!" he says with tears welling up in his eyes. "Please don't do this right now! I need to focus!" he says as he starts convulsing his body into weird positions. "Fine!" he screams as he gets up and runs towards our group.

I take off running towards the woods, I half expected to see the rest of the group following me, but they all just jumped backwards as the boy ran towards them. I hear a female shriek and I turn around and see Ethan with a knife sticking out his neck. The insane kid rips the knife out and immediately runs at Paisley who then screams and runs towards the other houses. Ryan lunges like he is going to attack but Domnick pulls him back and he follows Paisley towards the other houses. Dianna surprises me and just stands there. Not from fear or shock, but passivity as she stares down the insane boy in the eyes. He looks at her, and then comes and gets close to her face and whispers something. She tenses up, and then he turns and walks away.

I begin to walk towards my group when the boy turns and looks at me with a smile and starts to walk towards me. I turn around and sprint towards the woods and begin to dodge in between trees and bushes. I run for what seems like forever before I have to stop and take a breath.

I walk into a clearing and put my hands on my knees when all of the sudden someone grabs me from behind and puts a hand over my mouth. "Don't scream." he says. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help." I start to scream with his hand over my mouth but he pushes his palm down harder on my face. I wince from the pain and he turns me around. It's the boy with the attitude problem. "Listen, Zoya, you're not like them you need me."

"I need to get out of here," I say panicked as tears start to well up.

"You have a better shot of that with me than the Barbie and Ken dream house," he says. "My name is Roman; we need to talk."

* * *

 **Bentley Gagnon, 17**

 **Eastern Male**

* * *

"The voices told me to leave the pretty ones for last." I whispered to the blonde girl standing there before I walked away. I know it was probably a little ruthless, and maybe even cringey for her, but I needed to continue this charade.

Tahan was nice to bring it up to me in the jail. I'm just curious as to why she did. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to keep this charade up for much longer, so the fact that she encouraged me to do it really stuck out with me. It also gave me the motivation to move forward with it.

Most of the tributes just avoid me, which let's be real, I'm greatly appreciative for. And the fact that I just shoved a knife into another tributes neck is a perfect example of why they should. Do I feel bad for doing that? Not really, he seemed like a total tool. Would I have done it though if I wasn't put in this situation? Absolutely not.

But this is live or die situation, and I'm the epitome of a survivor. I have been from a very young age.

I think there are parts in everyone's life that can be pretty shitty. I believe that we all have experienced things that make us unhappy, but I choose not to sit and dwell on it. I did that for a long time, and that's how I ended up in this mess in the first place. I learned at 15 years old that my parents were never going to love me the way I wanted, so I did anything and everything to make me feel needed and to get the attention that they wanted.

Not to mention the drugs. Oh the drugs were a lovely side effect of having uncaring, drug addicted, only had me to cover up their lifestyle, parents. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree when it comes to addiction. Especially if that's all you know of life.

I grew up with obsession on all sides of me. It was like a box of gasoline soaked walls, and the people in my life were always throwing matches at the walls. I needed them. Because if my parents couldn't love me the way that I wanted them to, the needle always could.

A needle is the best lover you're ever going to have folks. She doesn't ask questions, doesn't make you ask permission to try new shit, and you don't have to cuddle with her afterwards. You simply toss her to the side, and await the next time you need a fix.

"That was quite a performance you put on back there." says a female voice behind me. I almost jump, almost, because I didn't know someone was following me. I start to slowly turn around and see the pale girl standing behind me with a knife poised and ready to go. "You don't fool me, kid." she says.

"Please, don't come any closer," I said breathing heavy. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't worry," she says calmly. "You won't."

She looks at me with an intensity that I can't describe. The girl is pale, but there is a fire in her eyes that are bright. Looking at her though, you can tell there is a certain darkness that lives inside of her. I never thought that darkness and light could co-exist before.

"Are we going to continue to play games, or can I offer you a deal?"

She blinks at me, and I know I've already waited too long to pursue my insanity act. I should have just continued to act crazy and start screaming. She wouldn't have known what to do, and I would have been fine and ran away. But no one knows as well as I that you can't change the past.

"I'm taking your quiet for you're listening." she says. "I read your file on my bracelet. I saw that you're in here for kidnapping, and that's a pretty crazy crime, but you're a pretty crazy boy aren't you Bentley?"

"You can read files on the ankle bracelet?" I ask curiously.

"Nice to see your real self." she says with an eye roll. "And to answer your question, yes, you can. There is a lot of things you can use this thing for. But that's not why I'm talking to you." she says. "My alliance currently thinks that I'm out trying to steal food from the houses, and I was, that is until I saw you and your little charade. You'd be a great little addition to our alliance." she says. "I would be the only one who knew you weren't crazy, and we would have a "calming word" that I would say when you act to crazy."

"And what if I say no to this little game you're hosting?" I ask defiantly.

"I kill you. Right here, right now, no regrets." she says. "I'm not afraid to do it. I did it yesterday." she says with a sick smile on her face. "I might as well have bathed in the blood. I felt nothing."

"Perhaps it would have given you some color," I say with distaste in my mouth.

"Good one," she says with a fake laugh. "Haven't heard that one before."

We pause for a long time, and then I roll my eyes and lift my hands in surrender. I don't want to join this girl. It's not something that I find to be beneficial for me, but not dying is also beneficial to me, and this girl is the real deal. I can tell.

"Fine," I say, "But if these people come for me, I'm slitting their throats," I snap.

"Deal." she says with a smile.

* * *

 **Aubrey Sabin, 18**

 **Midwestern Female**

* * *

"Yo, I don't know how I feel about this Milky White chick." says Davantae to me as we sit under a tree to avoid the hot sun. "She straight molly wapped that boy's ass yesterday. Execution style. The girl didn't even blink!" he says.

I can't say that I disagree with Davantae. There is something super unsettling about Luna. There is a certain aura about her that gives me shivers when she gets to close. I know that the girl wouldn't hesitate to kill me if I got in her way, and that freaks me out. You can never tell what she's thinking.

"I agree." I say, "But it's not like we can just go and leave her. She's vengeful, Dav." I say. "More vengeful than me, and let me tell you, that's saying something." I say. "We're going to have to do something to stake our claim or get rid of her." I say calmly. "I don't like talking like this, but she really isn't giving us a lot of hope that we can trust her."

"I was ready to take this bitch out yesterday," he says as he closes his eyes and leans against the trees. He has twigs stuck in his hair from when we slept outside last night. He tried getting them out this morning, but he couldn't get all of them and got frustrated. "Say the word, and I'll plunge the knife myself. She strikes me as some sort of evil version of Casper."

I chuckle as I hear a twig snap, and then I almost jump out of my skin. Luna walks out into the clearing with a boy who is counting out loud to 10, and then starts over from 1 again every time he counts to 10.

"Who the hell is this boy?" ask Davantae as he stands up from the tree. "Dude, you lost?" he says. "Scram!"

"He's not going anywhere," says Luna. "He's the newest member of this alliance."

"Excuse me?" I ask her a little annoyed. "You can't just add someone to the alliance, Luna-"

A knife whirls above my head and lands directly above my hairline. It scraped the top of my head, and I cry out in pain as a dribble of blood starts to fall down my forehead. Davantae looks at her with wide eyes, and then he looks back at me.

"I think the FUCK not." he says looking at Luna. "Have you lost the entireity of your mind, girl?" he says angrily. "Because let me help you find it. Here's a hint, it's not where you just threw that fucking knife, that's for sure-"

She pulls another knife out of her shirt and cuts his bicep with it. He jumps back towards me, and grabs onto my arm.

"What the fuck, bitch?!" he screams staring at her. "I thought we were an alliance?!"

"We are." she says calmly. "You clearly needed a reminder as to who was in charge though." she says. "I don't have to ask anything of you two. You do what I say, or when you outlive your usefulness, you'll end up with a knife in the heart."

"Oh the hell." says Davantae. "I've aligned with scream. Only difference is this bitch don't need a mask, she already scary as hell with her pale skin and creepy demeanor."

"Are you done?" she ask him bitterly. "Because if you are I have something to say. I have an assignment for us, a mission of some sort, if you will." she says as she walks towards us. "We're going to go take down at least one of those kids in the young alliance that is prancing around in one of the backyards."

"We're going to _look_ for a fight?" I ask surprised. "What if they overpower us?"

"Please, you're both in for assault and battery and you're so creeped out by me, you don't even react when I throw a knife at your head." she says

The boy standing next to her continues to count to 10 and then start over as all of this is going on. Both Davantae and I look at eachother confused, and then look back at Luna.

"Do you know where they are?" I ask quickly.

"Sure do," she says. "Let's go."

 **And with that I'll leave you on a cliff hanger :)**

 **19th Place: Ethan Pancamo, Western Male, Killed by Bentley Gagnon:** Megan I apologize for killing him. I didn't know who to kill for a while, and after I looked at the plot I realized that Ethan was the one that was the most expendable. If I were to take him out it really only affected Ryan. There is still so much more to happen with a lot of these characters, and some of the arcs haven't even been introduced yet. But there is a lot to be done. I also didn't really feel like you were reading, and that's a big thing for me. Another reason why reading and letting me know your thoughts is important...it motivates me to come up with plot lines..

 **Alliances**

 **Makeshift Careers:** Ryan/Dianna/Paisley/Domnick

 **Hilariously Uncomfortable:** Luna/Aubrey/Davantae/Bentley

 **Side Hoe Alliance:** Luna/Bentley

 **Diaper Alliance:** Ashylnn/Jemmy/Lilianna/Sloane

 **Lol Roman you dog:** Roman/Zoya

 **Loners:** Leilani/JJ/Marshall

 **Alone and Bonkers:** Miranda

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	20. Day 2: Part 2

**Dianna McKee, 18**

 **Midwestern Female**

* * *

I was on top of the world before I went to prison. Everything seemed to make sense, and everything that my life consisted of reminded me just how powerful I was. My life was shattered though, and in the pieces of the rubble, I'm left finding myself, while at the same time fighting for the life that I have no idea about anymore.

I wasn't brave when I stood before that boy. I wasn't some heroine that was standing her ground. I wanted him to end me. I wanted to be the next person he plunged that knife into. I wanted to be the one lying on the ground next to Ethan. Ethan doesn't have to worry about his life anymore; he doesn't have it.

What he did was so much worse than stabbing me.

"The voices said to leave the pretty ones for last," he whispered

The very few pieces of rubble I was able to pick up from my broken bits fell at those words. Am I nothing but the plastic and procedures my dad produced of me? Am I more than just a beautiful face?

I wouldn't know. My parents never gave me the chance to find out.

"I'm going to kill that kid," says Ryan angrily. "I'm going to stab him in the face over and over, and then I'm going to cut-"

"Ryan, dude, one of us is getting out of here. It's how it is going to happen. You need to move on." says Domnick with a pure and comforting tone.

"You might run this group, but you don't get to run how I feel." says Ryan bitterly.

As the boys continue to bicker, Paisley gets up and walks towards me. She just sits there across from me and stares, and then leans back on her arms and closes her eyes. "I hope Zoya is okay," she says. "I'd have thought she'd come and meet us by now, but maybe she got lost in the woods."

I don't answer, and she looks worried when I don't respond. "Dianna?" she asks me. "Is there anything going on you need to talk about?"

"I wanted him to do it," I say matter of fact. When the words escape my mouth, the boys stop bickering and they look at Paisley and me. I knew I shouldn't have mentioned my desire for him to stab me, especially to these people, but I can't help it anymore. It's like the voice that is in my head that keeps me from self-destruction is out on vacation, and has no intentions of ever coming back.

"You what?" asked Paisley almost awkwardly laughing because she isn't sure what to do. "Because for a second, it almost just sounded like you said that you wanted him to stab you."

"I did," I reply back leaving no room for them to try to dance around my answer. I need to be up front with them. I can't explain why it feels so right for me to let all of this out, but it does, and I don't know if I _can_ stop at this point. I am feeling better.

When I was back home, I learned never to tell anyone anything. Those girls were nasty, and they'd leak your information in a heartbeat. I think subconsciously my brain is relaxing for the first time in 18 years. What do I have to lose telling them my secrets right now? If I win, they're dead and have no shot at telling others about it, and if they win, I'm dead. Who cares who knows?

A part of me kind of hopes that I'm not the person that gets to go home. It's not that I'm suicidal, but I don't think I'd be able to answer to my parents after everything that happened. Plus, I see the quiet guilt that Tahan carries around to this day. Survivor's guilt I heard is the worst.

"Dianna," says Ryan slowly. "You realize that's only a little bit insensitive to me and what just happened right?"

"Ryan, you realize that you talked about how much you hated him for 95% of this whole experience right? You can't just suddenly become his best friend again because he's gone." I say.

"Listen, bitch," says Ryan as he gets up and moves towards me threateningly. I jump up and look at him in the face. He is surprised, and almost steps back for a second, but stands his ground enough to not seem like a chicken in front of anyone else.

"You don't scare me, Ryan," I say proudly. "I am not one that scares easy. We are all upset about what happened to Ethan, but my feelings are not to be dictated by what happened with others. I need you to slide off your high horse and mourn for your friend in a proper and healthy way without any of this aggressive behavior. Because if these are my potential last days, I'd rather not listen to someone bitch."

Ryan's eyes look shocked at me as he steps back and then looks at the group. He looks around at each one of us and then walks towards the woods.

"Ryan, don't go man." says Domnick.

"I need some time," Ryan says bitterly. "Wouldn't want my bitchiness to rub off on people."

* * *

 **Davantae Jones, 17**

 **Midwestern Male**

* * *

I've done a lot of shitty things in my life. I can't tell you everything because it's a long list. But I can say that I don't believe that any good can come from me at this point.

You see, there is a lot to be said for a person who has lost everything. Because there was a time where you saw them at the top of the world. But life is a balancing act, and some people have more grace than others.

The crazy thing about hitting rock bottom is having to acknowledge the fact that you can't go any lower. That's something that is comforting and at the same time a bit scary. Because how do you know when you actually hit rock bottom? What is the giveaway that tells you it is not possible to fall further?

This arena is my rock bottom. These people that I'm going to have to watch die so I can survive is the reason that I know I can't fall any lower. If I were a stronger man, I would allow myself just to perish. To not allow these circumstances to bring out my worst traits.

But I am not a stronger man.

"Here is the plan," says Luna, "We are going to hop the fence into the backyard on both sides. We will run at them giving them no chance to grab anything and fight, only to run. Two of us will storm, and two of us will be on the other side of the house waiting for them to run around the corner trapping them. We get as many as we can."

"What house are they in?" ask Aubrey with a sad look on her face.

"That small one right there." says Luna.

We begin walking down the road when I look to my left and see a guard walking along the sidewalk. He holds a rifle in his hands and looks ready to shoot if any of us lose our minds. When we get to the house that Luna is talking about, she looks at Bentley and whispers something in his ear. He nods and then hops over the fence, and she quickly follows. Aubrey and I run to the other side and jump over the opposite side of the fence and wait for the plan to work.

"I don't know how I feel about this." she whispers.

"Me either," I respond.

We wait for what seems like a long time before Luna and Bentley run out from their side of the house. The first thing that makes me cringe is the sound of someone screaming. I'm not sure if they just got a kill or if they scared them.

"Shit man, I'm not able to do this," I say as I contemplate jumping back over the fence, but before I have a chance to do so, the other kids coming running around the corner. Luna has the perky one by her ponytail and isn't letting go for the life of her as she and Bentley stroll along slowly behind them.

The boy is the first one to see that he's in a dangerous predicament, and runs to the house that is adjacent to us and throws his body over the fence in one subtle move. After he does that, the rest of the girls that were with him begin to freak out. Bentley runs forward and grabs a blonde girl by the waist and throws her against the wall.

"Sloane! Run!" she screams as she makes impact with the side of the house and a yelp escapes her lips. The girl named Sloane runs to the same fence the boy did and hops over. Leaving her two friends behind.

Luna walks over to the side of the house and throws the pony tail girl against the wall with her friend. "You seriously couldn't grab the frizzy-haired chick?" she says with an eye roll.

"I'm a little overwhelmed right now." I say as I watch her pace in front of the two girls.

"What are your names?" she says completely ignoring me.

"Ashlynn." says the blonde girl that Bentley threw against the wall.

"Wrong answer," says Luna as she takes a knife out and walks towards the girl and plunges it into her head. The girl with the ponytail screams, but then a change falls over her face. She gets angry as she gets up and shoves Luna into the fence and begins to choke her. Luna tries to fight her off, but she is unable to do so.

For a second none of us move, and then after about 30 seconds, Bentley grabs the knife out of the girl Ashlynn's head and then shoves it into the girl with the ponytail's back. She coughs blood into Luna's face and then falls forwards. I rush over to her and grab her hand.

"I'm so sorry," I say

"I'm...Lilianna," she says with a heavy breath. "You should know..who...you kill," she says before her eyes glaze over.

"What the actual FUCK was that?!" screams Luna. "Not one of you came to help me!" she snarls.

"I did," says Bentley, which is the first thing this boy has ever said that isn't completely insane.

"After waiting!" says Luna angrily.

"Maybe you shouldn't throw knives at the people who need to have your back in an emergency then?" says Aubrey as she begins to climb the fence again.

* * *

 **Leilani Ku'uaki, 15**

 **Eastern Female**

* * *

They built my beach house.

I didn't even hesitate when all of the chaos broke out yesterday. I ran straight to it. The familiar feel of the house that built me was comforting. Ironic because it's also the house that before I went to prison, I wanted nothing more than to get away from.

This morning a guard came to me and told me that I couldn't be in my house past 10 am. I think that it's a stupid rule, and they have no business making decrees like that. They're already making dumb choices and putting us in a deathmatch, the least they can do is let us go out with comfort.

The thing I missed most about my house though is the hammock in my backyard. Swinging on it allowed me to have an escape back in my father's home. I hated him for all of the oppression he put me through. Ironic thing now is that I'd give anything just to hear his voice again.

As I swing in the hammock and try to forget the cares of this world, I hear movement in the house next door. I freeze because I don't want this person to be hostile. A lot of these people are very passive, and only a handful of kids have died, but knowing my luck, I would end up on the receiving end of one of the psychotic tributes' knives.

I didn't have the best luck in the prison before these games started. I wasn't pretty enough to hang out with the pretty girls. I wasn't interesting or artsy enough to hang out with the other kids my age, so I mostly just kept to myself. I had the random conversation now and then, but nothing with anyone that would make them think twice about killing me if they needed to.

"Leilani, what do you do?" I ask myself getting up from the hammock.

I get up from the swing and walk over towards the fence. I look for a hole in the fence, but I am unable to find any cracks that allow me to see who I am dealing with. I take a deep breath and climb the fence and see a boy with his shirt off lying in the sun. He's built and has big eyebrows, which normally would be a no go, but they're well kept.. He looks friendly enough, and it's been pretty lonely since all of this started.

"I didn't know anyone was living in the neighboring house," I say.

My voice startles him, and he grabs a knife and looks around until he sees me standing on the fence.

"I didn't either," he says skeptically as he gets up from the lawn chair he was in and walks towards me. When he gets to the fence, he sticks his hand out, and I'm hesitant to take it. All it would take is one pull from him, and I'm instantly dead.

"It's just a handshake," he says. "My name is JJ."

"Leilani," I say as I stick out my hand to shake his. He smiles as he takes my hand and we don't know how long we are supposed to hold it for, so it's a bit awkward for us. I eventually am the first one to pull back and clear my throat as he stands on his side of the fence and peers into my backyard.

"Nice yard," he says. "I like that thing," he says pointing to the sculpture of the island goddess of fertility that my mother made. I smile as I remember how long she spent making it. We were so happy when she was done because she was so grouchy the whole time while she was in the process of making it.

"Thanks," I said. "My mother made it." I pause as I look back at it. "Well, my mom made the original version."

"It's nice." he says.

"Thanks," I say.

"Well, that was fun meeting you, Leilani," he says with a smile. "Good luck."

"You too, JJ," I say as both of us hop down from the fence at the same time. A sickening feeling falls over me, and once again I'm reminded of where I am, and how bad this feeling can be.

"Butterflies?!" I say to myself as I throw my hands in my face. "Please tell me this is a joke. This is a sick joke. I can't do this right now. Especially not right now!" I whisper to myself as I walk back to the hammock and sit down on it, letting the swing rock back and forth.

"You've stepped in it now, Leilani."

* * *

 **Sloane Disanto, 16**

 **Western Female**

* * *

It's the second night, and the second the clock hit 9 pm, Jemmy and I ran and found a place to hide in one of the houses. We chose a giant house with a lot of rooms, and that way if someone comes in we have loads of hiding places. I think this house, in particular, belongs to that Paisley girl. Not that you'd know from any family pictures because there are none, but I think I saw her walk out of this one.

"I'm taking a shower," I say as I get up and walk towards the bathroom.

"Okay," says Jemmy quietly as his face is reflecting on the day. I've been trying not to do that myself.

I walk out of the bedroom we've claimed as our own and into the bathroom across the hall. I turn on the water and then walk back out of the bathroom and into a random room in the house to see if there is a pair of clean clothes to change into. When I walk into a room at the end of the hall, any suspicions I had about this room being Paisley's melts away as a giant P with polka dots sits smack dab in the middle of the wall directly across from the door.

The room is bright pink and full of the typical high school bitch girl items. I roll my eyes as I walk to the closet and begin to dig for something not pink.

After about few minutes I find a white v-neck and a pair of yoga pants in her closet and I walk back to the bathroom and begin to take off the prison uniform that has gotten beyond disgusting since arriving in the arena.

When I'm unclothed, I get into the shower and let the hot water hit my face, and then suddenly I'm sitting down in the tub crying. I'm crying for Ashlynn, and for Lilianna. I'm crying for me, and for Jemmy. I'm crying for every fall tribute that has walked into this arena.

Because this isn't just a game. A game is supposed to be fun. This is people's lives. This is their time we are playing with, and messing with time is irreversible.

I continue to sob when I hear the door to the bathroom open. I wipe my nose and stand up as I quickly begin to rub soap all over my body.

"Just a second, Jemmy," I say. "Get out, and you can have a go. Sorry I was taking so long." I say as I begin to rinse off.

"Get out." says a male voice that is extremely unfamiliar.

"Jemmy?" I ask praying that this is just my ally playing a game with me. "Jemmy this isn't funny."

"This isn't a joke, get out of my hideout!"

It dawns on me that I am not talking to Jemmy. I take a deep breath and begin to plot a way out of this situation, and then I realize that I'm naked.

"I'm not telling you again!" he growls. "Get out!"

"Dude!" I say. "I'm naked!"

"Not my problem." he says as she attempts to open up the shower curtain, but I grab ahold of the curtain and keep it closed.

"Have you lost your mind!?" I ask. "Let me get a towel and get into clothes, and I'll leave!"

I feel his hands let go of the curtain and I begin to relax, and then I hear a loud thud and a body hitting the floor. My heart stops beating for a second as I peek my head out of the shower curtain and see Jemmy standing over the mystery boy with a salad bowl in his hand.

"Are you okay?!" he ask me.

"Did you seriously just hit him with a salad bowl?!" I ask

"Can you, like, get dressed before we have this conversation?" he ask me as he throws me my towel and my clothes.

I reach to turn off the water and then begin to dry off. I quickly begin putting on the clothes I borrowed from Paisley's closet, and see that the boy is still lying there unconscious on the floor. Jemmy is waiting outside of the bathroom with a pained look on his face.

"What are we supposed to do with him?" he asks me.

"Like I know?" I say looking back into the bathroom and seeing his body lying there. He begins to move, and Jemmy and I both flinch getting ready for another fight. "I have an idea," I say as I run back down the hall and into Paisley's room. I begin to grab random clothing articles from her closet, and throwing it on my shoulder. Jemmy walks into the room and gives me a weird look.

"You're shopping right now? Seriously?"

"For ropes? Yes." I say as I run back into the bathroom and begin tying the boy's hands up. He starts to stir, which only makes me move quicker as Jemmy comes in and starts to help me. He ties at his feet, and then sits him up and allows me to begin to tie his arms down. When I'm putting the last knot into his makeshift ropes, he comes to and looks at us confused.

"Why couldn't you just leave?!" he says.

"You're in no position to ask us questions," I say. "What's your name."

He looks at us with a sad look and then looks down at the floor defeated. "Marshall Clyde," he says.

"Well Marshall, get ready for some questions because we have lots of them." says Jemmy.

 **Well, that way day 2! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm sorry if this seemed hasty killing two characters off. Well, you'll understand.**

 **18th Place: Ashlynn Watkins, 15, Southern Female, Killed by Luna Koski:** Julia, you knew this was coming. Ashlynn was a good tribute, but she was a little OP in my opinion. She knew a lot and I liked that, but at the same time she seemed to have a bit too much information, and I wasn't sure how to write that without making her a Mary Sue. Sorry that she had to go out this way! Thanks for the submission.

 **17th Place: Lilianna Marin, 15, Midwestern Female, Killed by Bentley Gagnon:** To the creator of this original story, it meant so much having your support on this project. I was so excited to see you back on Fanfiction, and even more flattered when you submitted to my story. You were an incredible author of this story the first time around, and I can only hope that my story can hold a candle to what yours would have been. I had SUCH a hard time deciding who was dying, and it's only getting harder. I'm sorry Lily had to go this early.

 **Well, it really is getting difficult, I have NO IDEA who I am killing next guys. You really made this difficult and I lowkey hate you for it.**

 **Makeshift Careers:** Dianna/Paisley/Ryan/Domnick

 **Hilariously Uncomfortable, and Luna is crazy...YIKES:** Luna/Aubrey/Davantae/Bentley

 **Diaper Alliance (Might change to all grown up):** Sloane/Jemmy

 **HALP:** Marshall Clyde

 **Pleasantly Awkward:** Leilani/JJ

 **Roman's Plan:** Roman/Zoya

 **Alone and Bonkers:** Miranda

 **16 left, who will be kicked off next?!**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	21. Day 3: The Feast

**I would just like to let everyone that submitted know that you've pissed me off.**

 **I CANNOT FIGURE OUT WHO DIES?!**

 **I've never had this much difficulty, and I think the problem is you've all sent me SUCH fantastic characters, I'm not even just saying that.**

 **They are all really arc worthy.**

 **If your tribute dies from this point on, I'm sorry. Nothing personal.**

 **Know this stuff was hard.**

 **This chapter will also probably be longer than most.**

 **BUT: Some POVs will be shorter than others. Sorry.**

* * *

 _The third day is probably the worst day out of the whole story. I know because I watched it unfold. I watched the people die, I watched hearts grow darker, and children grow colder. I saw regret and remorse. I saw the death of innocence, even if most of them weren't exactly the purest of them all._

 _I saw the President win this day._

 _The truth is the third day is the worst day because, for the tributes that were in the arena, it's when things got real. It's when the death count started to rise. It's where selfish ambitions took over._

 _It is the day the President called them all to the center of the woods, to a makeshift Roman Empire Arena to fight each other off with the most dazzling of prizes. I watched six tributes die this day._

 _And at the end of this entry, so will you._

* * *

 **Paisley Grace, 18**

 **Southern Female**

* * *

" _Tributes, in 60 seconds the games will start. May the odds ever be in your favor." says the President as I stand outside of my childhood home. The home with so much love and caring memories. The home with loads of beautiful family portraits. The home where I had my first kiss and got my first dog._

 _This home is now a house of death._

 _Dianna and the boy Garrison are fighting over on their field, but the timer hasn't sounded. He's on top of her choking her, and no matter how hard I run, I can't get to her._

" _DIANNA!" I call out desperately trying to reach my friend. "DIANNA!"_

 _But she couldn't hear me. She was turning blue as the life drained out of her eyes, and the boy named Garrison smiled menacingly as he continued to squeeze the life out of her eyes. I fall to the ground and begin to sob for my friend as he gets up, and her eyes are left frozen wide open. He begins his walk towards me, but unlike me, he closes the distance rather quickly. He pushes me over and pulls out a knife._

" _Does this look familiar, Paisley?" he whispers in my ear as he dangles the knife over my chest. "It should; it's the one you killed me with!" He plunges his arm down-_

I shoot up from my mattress covered in sweat. I'm breathing heavy and looking around the room frightened I see Dianna sitting in the corner of the room staring at me.

"You okay?" she asks me.

"Yeah, just a nightmare," I say getting up and moving to the kitchen. "Did Ryan not come back?"

"No, he didn't," she tells me. "I waited for him late last night, but he never showed.

Well, aren't we just losing people left and right?

I expected Ryan to be here asleep in the bedroom when we woke up the following morning, and the blonde giant isn't here. Zoya disappeared into the woods yesterday, and I haven't seen her face on the house, so I wonder what the hell is going on with her.

What's next? Is Dianna leaving?

"He's still not back?" ask Domnick when he wakes up a little groggy as I start to make sandwiches for later on in the day. It's about an hour until we need to head out of the house for the onset of house restrictions.

"Plot twist," I say with a sarcastic tone. "I've been Ryan and Paisley at the same time," I say with an unmistakable tone in my voice. "Obviously he isn't back, Domnick," I say with an eye roll. "I don't see why he's fuming. Yeah, his friend died, and it's sad, but at the same time, he was going to have to anyways. That's the painful reality of the situation we are in."

I haven't allowed myself optimism at this point. There's no room for hope in these desperate times. It's a crappy situation, and often when we are in crappy situations in our youth, we expect some fairytale type event to occur and change it into something beautiful.

But life isn't a fairytale. I need to acknowledge that no matter what happens, I'm either living or dying and if I live I might as well be dead. A soul can't take that much torture. I want to be able to say that I believe in fairytales. I want to be optimistic that the President will come out over the loudspeaker and laugh saying she was just kidding.

But eight deaths is not a just kidding magical moment. I've seen my friend die. _I've_ killed someone. He was a rotten person and terrorized the entire country for so long, but nonetheless, he died at my hands.

"No need to be snarky, Paisley." he tells me with a sad look on his face.

"Sorry, Dom," I say. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"It's okay," he says, "None of us have."

* * *

 **Ryan Lambert, 18**

 **Western Male**

* * *

I'm pissed.

I don't usually stay this upset when things happen. I understand that life is a fickle thing, but for goodness sake, I just got my friend back. We still had a lot to work through, but because of the President, and this game, and these people, I never get to work through them.

But my anger isn't for the President. It isn't for the games. It isn't even for all of the people. My anger is towards _one_ person in particular. That bitch Dianna.

Who the hell did she think she was talking to me the way she did? I didn't do anything to her. I was mourning my friend and trying to work through some frustration, and she had _the nerve_ to talk to me the way she did.

I decided I'm going to kill her. That's the only thing that makes sense at this point, is to kill her. She's gotten too big for britches, and it's not like I'm going to get in trouble for taking her out. This game is endorsed by the President. In fact, I think she'll thank me for doing so.

I walk up the cobblestone pathway to her house, and when I get to the door, I don't ring the doorbell. The stupid people never remembered to lock the door at night. That was always my job, and sure enough, as I turn the doorknob and walk in, it opens right up.

I hear my alliance up on the second-floor suite that I assumed to belong to Dianna before her time in prison. Stupid bitch has had it all. Why does she get a stable life here as well? Ethan could have had all this.

I creep around to the back staircase, and move begin to walk up the steps slowly. When I get to the top of the stairs, I see Dianna alone in the living room by herself, while the other two are in the bathroom. She is facing the other way trying to figure out a hair do that won't be a disappointment today when she gets back, but she won't need one.

I pull the knife out of my back pocket and creep up behind her. I get about three feet before she sees me in the mirror and spins around screaming.

"Ryan what the hell?!" she says

I run at her and jump over the coffee table and attempt to slash her neck, but she dives out of the way. I continue to chase her around the structure when Paisley comes running in with her hair and body wrapped in a towel.

"Hey!" she screams. "Get the hell away from her!"

"Stay out of this, Paisley!" I scream angrily.

"Or you cannot be a fucking psycho!" she says as she runs to step in between Dianna and me. I try to push past her, and she doesn't budge, so I try picking her up and moving her, but again she doesn't move. I feel a kick in my pelvic area, and instantly fall over in pain as it moves dances up my stomach. Two small hands push me from the back, and I fall over the coffee table, but the knife I was holding doesn't land on the ground with me.

"OH MY GOSH!" screams Paisley as she runs past me and kneels on the ground next to Domnick.

In a pool of blood, and also wearing nothing but boxers, Domnick lies there with a knife buried deep in his chest. It's directly in the center, so I think I hit a major artery.

What have I done? I just killed one of my friends! I begin to tremble as the reality of this situation dawns on me as Dianna and Paisley watch Domnick's last breaths.

"Is he going to be okay?!" I scream nervously.

"You stabbed him in the heart dumbass!" screams Dianna. "What the hell do you think?!"

Paisley just sits next to Domnick and smiles as she strokes his hair. "You're going to be okay," she says. "You're going to go to a good place, where you'll have tons of rest, and nothing to fear as far as this world. I'm so sorry it had to end like this, Dom," she says as tears start to well up in her eyes. Domnick can't respond because he's choking on blood, but he squeezes her hand, and then his eyes glaze over.

Paisley's face switches as she sees me standing in the corner with my hands trembling and my heart beating quickly. She picks the knife out of his chest, and then walks over to me, and is about to stab me, but then stops and throws the knife down on the floor.

"You're not worth it," she says through closed teeth. "You disgust me, Ryan," she says as she begins to walk back to the bathroom to wash off all the blood.

"Uh, fuck that," says Dianna as she walks over to the knife and picks it up. She slashes it across my neck, just the same way I was going to kill her, and I fall to the ground.

"DIANNA!" screams Paisley as I begin to choke on my own blood.

"He tried to kill me in cold blood, killed one of my friends, and he just gets to walk away? No, he can choke," she says as I continue my struggle to breathe. As I continue to choke, I see Ethan walking into the room. It's not the Ethan that died in this arena though. He looks stronger and happier.

"Come one, dude." he says with a smile. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

* * *

 **Roman Darmadi, 17**

 **Southern Male**

* * *

Zoya has proven to be indescribably difficult. She refuses to listen to anything I try to talk to her about, and I need her in my master plan to get to the end. Who would kill sweet innocent Zoya? And it's not like she's going to take a stab at anyone, so if it's us in the finals, I have my life back.

"Zoya, are you seriously not going to listen to my plan?"

I have her tied up to a tree in the woods. There is a giant arena that I found as I was looking for a place to hide Zoya and myself, and I think I want to lead everyone there. It's about 10 feet away, but it's covered by the vast amount of trees and bushes at the angle I have Zoya at, so I don't think she has noticed.

"I would rather die," she says defiantly. "You make me sick."

"Keep pushing me, woman," I say haughtily. "That can be arranged. Why are you so against me? What have I ever done to you."

"For one, you kidnapped me." she says with an eye roll.

"Other than that," I say

She stares at me with a defiant look in her eyes, and then they narrow on me as she takes a breath. "My family is from Egypt,"

"Yes," I say annoyed. "I know."

"If you won't let me finish there is no point to this conversation."

"Fine," I say, "Go."

"My family is from Egypt," she says again. "My mother and father fell in love at a young age. The only issue is that my mom came from a very wealthy family, and my dad came from a destitute one. Her family didn't condone it, and after the takeover in Egypt, my mother was sought out by one of the foreign leader's sons." she says. "He was very cruel, and they were married very early into their courting. It was an arranged marriage, but my mother still loved my father, and they ran away. They were able to get out of Egypt, and Africa was still free in multiple places, so they found a plane and came to America, but it took them a few years to do so. It was a lot of bouncing around different countries in Egypt. He looked for them near and far and finally found them. My mother had already had me in Egypt before they immigrated, the correct way I might add, to America. He found her and tried to kill me, but my father killed him instead." she says.

"What does that have to do with me?" I ask confused.

"Because I'll be damned if after all the work my family went through to get me to a place where I wouldn't have to live a life like that, that I end up exactly in a situation like my mother." she says plainly.

"Well, appears to me that you already are," I say with a sly smile.

"We will see." she says.

"TRIBUTES!" says the President's voice over the intercom. "I would like to invite you to the center of the woods. There is a mandatory activity there that I would love for you guys to take part of. There you will see a table with a bunch of envelopes on them. Don't touch them. The rest of the rules will be explained after you arrive. It's a giant building in the center of the woods; you can't miss it. Also, no hurting other tributes if you see them on the way."

"I guess you have to untie me," she says

"Oh no, sweetheart," I say with a chuckle. "I don't."

"We have to go to this. She just said it was mandatory."

"We are already here," I say as I pull the bushes back to reveal the stone wall. Zoya's face goes paler as she takes a breath and accepts that she is probably going to die in this building.

"Bet you wish you listened now," I say with a smile.

* * *

 **Luna Koski, 15**

 **Eastern Female**

* * *

It took the four of us forever to make it to this giant building. If it was so giant, why the hell couldn't we see it through all of the trees? When we arrived at the building, everyone was already sitting there waiting for further instructions. I begin to scan the crowd and see that someone is missing though. There should be 16 of us left. Instead, there are only 15 here.

I begin to pace as I try to go over whose face I've seen on the giant house every night, and who is missing from the living people. As I walk by a particular area of woods, I hear a muffled scream that sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine.

"I think I've found our lucky number 16," I whisper to myself as I walk through the bushes following the scream. There I see a beautiful girl tied up, and remember her from the large group that isn't looking so giant anymore as the twin barbies stand there by themselves.

"Hello." I say. "I know you can't say it back, but let's make a deal." I say as I stroll over to her and sit across from her. "I'll let you go, if you agree that you and your friends won't come for my in that arena. I'm not sure what exactly we are doing, but I have a theory it's going to be killing us. Blink twice if you agree."

She blinks twice and then looks at me with pleading eyes. There's a certain urgency to them that lets me know she is asking me to hurry.

"Great!" I say as I take the sock out of her mouth. She begins to cough violently as I work on the ropes. In a few seconds she is untied, and we walk back out of the bushes and into the clearing. I watch to see people's reactions to see who was the one that tied her up, and in the corner of the clearing away from everyone else sits a very unhappy looking boy.

"That's our first target." I say pointing at him.

"The boy?" asks Aubrey.

"Yes, he tied a woman up, and that's not something I condone."

"I'm not killing anybody," says Davantae. "We don't even know what we are doing here."

"Please, you'll see momentarily."

"Tributes!" says the loud voice of the President. "Now that everyone is here, I would like to invite you into the building.

Large wooden doors open, and we enter into a giant Roman Colosseum. I smile as I see the great architecture that went into this project, and notice all of the sharp details in the stone.

"Tributes," says the President. "Welcome to my ultimate entertainment. Here the remaining boys will fight each other until two are dead, and then the girls will follow after. No more than two of each gender may die. For the winners, you will get a fabulous prize, and also officially be in the top 10!"

"What if we refuse?" ask a dark-haired girl who looks exceptionally nervous. Good, an easy target.

"Then you forfeit your right as a living part of this game." says the President. "Now, don't you kids want to know what the prize is?" ask the President. No one responds, and I can hear the almost laughable disappointment in her voice as the tributes refuse to answer to her. "The prize is a letter from your family," she says. "So, it's worth the win. Girls, take a seat in the stands, boys, go to the center of the arena."

The female population of this neighborhood awkwardly go sit down in the stands, but I see Davantae and Aubrey whispering to each other intensely before Davantae steps into the arena. I walk over there casually without them noticing me, and hear a bit of the conversation.

"This is our chance to weaken Luna," says Aubrey. "If we can take Bentley out now, we can take her out after."

"Good luck, Davantae!" I say with a smile that lets them know I've been here the whole time. "Hope you make it out okay, buddy."

I turn on my heel and walk back to the arena stand and sit next to the blonde girl who looks at me and smiles. It's a fake smile, one of those pageant things that lets me know this chick is fake as they come.

"Boys, on your mark. Get set. Go!"

* * *

 **JJ Brooks, 18**

 **Eastern Male**

* * *

None of us moves when she says go. There are various weapons scattered around this circle like building. We just sit there though. None of us have any real desire to kill each other, and the fact that we are being forced to is ridiculously stupid.

I look over at the stand and see Leilani watching with a worried look in her eyes. She sees me staring and instantly gives me a reassuring smile. I don't know what it is about her, but since our encounter in the backyard, I can't seem to get her out of my head. I don't know if it's because I like her, or the fact that I think I might die in here, so I want one last fling.

No matter what the reason, she's in my head, and it's distracting.

"Gentlemen," says the President quickly. "If you don't begin to kill each other, I will be forced to take matters into my hands."

After than announcement is said, the boy that is most like criminally insane runs into the center of the arena screaming and hollering. He grabs a machete off of the ground and comes running at random people in the stadium, all of who begin to dodge him. With him starting the combat though, all bets were off. We all grabbed random weapons and began going to town, and I saw early that I needed to make eye contact with someone because that was essentially how alliances were being formed.

I quickly make eye contact with a tall, pale boy. He has short brown hair and nods as he and I align together to go after the rest of the boys.

"Marshall." he says quickly.

"JJ," I say.

We begin to survey the area, and Marshall sets his sight on a boy with a bald head. He nudges me and looks over at the kid. "That boy has had me tied up for the last 12 hours. The only reason he let me go was that a guard told him he had to. Him and that crazy frizzy-haired chick." he says. "I want to take him out."

"Let's do it," I say.

We run towards the bald boy, whose eyes go big as he sees us moving towards him and begins to run, we start to chase him, and we finally corner him in a place where it will be impossible to get out. We start to close in, and he starts to look at both of us, and the gaps between our body. I can tell he weighs them out.

"Go!" he screams as he tries to run in between Marshall and me, but Marshall sticks his knife out, and it stabs him in the stomach. He falls over in pain and screams as the knife sits handle deep in his gut. Marshall bends down low and yanks the knife out of his gut.

"You should have gotten out of my hideout." he says as he then stabs the boy in the head.

"Tributes, one more male death." says the President gleefully.

"Stand back." says Marshall. "Everyone else seems tied up."

* * *

 **Bentley Gagnon, 17**

 **Eastern Male**

* * *

Well, isn't this super exciting!

So many people fighting, and here I am just standing in the middle of the arena screaming my ass off. Everyone is avoiding me. Not that anyone else is really trying to kill someone. The boy that was next to me in the prison, I think his name was Jemmy, lies dead on the ground a few yards away and the two boys that did it are standing in the corner.

Maybe I should pay them a visit.

"Hey, Schizo," says a voice to my side. I turn around and see a boy with dark hair and bushy eyebrows. He looks angry as he stares at me, and holds up a machete that he has in his hand like a sword.

"Let's go, no one else is fighting. This is between me and you now."

He charges at me, and begins to swipe at me rapidly as I dodge back and forth and begin laughing. "This is so much fun, huh?" I ask as he continues to try and kill me. I'm playing this insanity thing up because I'm in front of the whole mess of tributes, but actually I'm scared I'm about to die.

"Would you stop dodging?!" says the boy angry

"The voices said that isn't advised." I say as I spin away from his blade. I swing my knife and cut into his shoulder. "Oops!" I say gleefully.

The boy drops his knife and then begins to try and pick it up from the ground when I tackle him and pin his arms underneath my kneecaps.

"You thought you could take on me?" I ask in a sadistic tone. "I'm invisible. The voice told me!" I say proudly. I lean down into his ear and whisper. "Actually, I'm completely sane, and this schizophrenia thing was made up so I didn't have to do hard jail time. I'm telling you now because, well, you're about to die. Enjoy wherever you're going kid."

"He's not sch-" but I stab him in the throat before he can finish his sentence.

"Tributes!" screams the President. "STOP! Ladies, it's your turn to take the arena. Good luck."

We all awkwardly look around at each other as we get up and walk back to the stands. Luna grabs me by the arm and gives me a serious look. "Something is brewing," she says. "I can feel it, Davantae chickened out, but I don't want Aubrey to have the chance to succeed."

"What are you saying?" I ask confused.

"I'm saying get ready." she says. "It's about to get messy."

* * *

 **Aubrey Sabin, 18**

 **Midwestern Female**

* * *

I'm panicking. I don't know what to expect right now. I'm not sure how much Luna heard of our conversation, but something tells me it was too much for my liking. Not to mention Davantae completely chickened out and didn't kill Bentley! He just stood there like a wimp as literally everyone else got into some sort of fight.

The girls line the outer part of the arena and begin to look around. The President hasn't told us to go yet, so we're waiting for the go ahead before people start dying. I find Luna on the opposite end of the arena, and she is poised to run. She winks at me when she sees me staring at her, and then looks back at the center of the arena where a giant sword has now been placed.

"Ladies," says the President. "On your mark, get set, go!"

Luna sprints to the center after the sword, and I grab a mace that is just sitting near by. As I expected, Luna runs straight at me, and has a devilish smile on her face. She begins to swing her sword over and over again, as I dodge, and swing my mace at her.

This mace was a lot heavier than I expected, and I realize that I'm really going to have to put force in this if I expect to hit her. I take a step back as she lunges towards me, and slam the mace into her sword. It flies out of her hand and she looks shocked at me as she attempts to go run for it, but with all my might, I hurl the mace at her back.

There is a loud cracking sound, and Luna falls to the ground and starts twitching. I run over to her, and turn her over and see her face in agonizing pain.

"Just do it," she says slowly.

I wrap my hands around her neck and begin to squeeze, but then I realize that it's to long of a way to die. I see a knife not that far away from me, and reach out to grab it, and she points to her head and smiles.

"It's less pain." she says. "Instant death. It's why I always stab there." she says as her back cracks again and she winces.

I nod as I bring the knife down onto her skull. A single tear escapes her face, and I feel genuinely guilty about what just happened. Luna's eyes glaze over and her head tilts to the side, and I get off of her body. I look around and see that none of the other girls are moving, they are all just staring at Luna and I. I run towards the corner of the arena when an Asian girl runs at me.

* * *

 **Zoya Heda, 17**

 **Eastern Female**

* * *

I see that crazy girl that always talked about some kid named Aaron start to run at the girl that just killed the person that released me from my ropes. I was so scared when she was releasing me; I didn't know what to expect from her.

She's a nasty girl. She has killed many, and I've seen her responses to it. I didn't know if I was next because she got such pleasure out of doing it.

Now that everyone is moving Paisley and Dianna run towards me from their respective corner of the Colosseum. I brace myself just in case they are coming to attack, but they both wrap me in a hug as they get within arms reach of me.

"Where the hell have you been?!" says Dianna

"I was kidnapped by one of the boys who died today," I say. "Where are Ryan and Domnick?"

Paisley's face goes pale as she looks down at the ground and I get the answer I was hoping wouldn't come. A scream snaps us back into reality as the Asian girl is now on top of the girl and is trying to stab her repeatedly.

"You think you can just steal anyone's man, Sindy?!" she screams.

"My name is Aubrey!" screams the girl as she continues to dodge the stabs that the girl is attempting to put on her face. Paisley and Dianna freeze as they see the girl about to die, but something inside of me snaps. This isn't right.

I run over to where the two girls are fighting, and throw the Asian girl off of Aubrey. She gets up quickly and looks at me confused. "You're defending that slut?!" she hisses. "She stole my man."

"She didn't take your man," I say plainly as she runs at me, and attempts to stab me now.

"You're just a slut friend! A friend of all the sluts!"

She continues to try and stab me and comes very close to sticking me. My heart starts to beat fast in my chest, and then I remember what my mother told me on the phone the day I was taken to this God forsaken prison.

 _You are a Heda, my love." says my mother. "You're stronger than you think, fiercer than your wildest dreams, and can achieve anything if you believe."_

"I believe." I say as the girl takes another stab in my direction. Aubrey has long since ran away, and she is throwing up in the corner.

The girl takes one last stab at me, and I dodge and grab her wrist. She looks surprised as I pull her down and she hits the ground hard. I take the knife that she dropped upon hitting the ground and bring it down into her back. She lets out a scream, and then her head tilts over.

I look down surprised at what I just did, and then the gravity of the situation just dawned on me. I start to tear up when I bend down and look at the now dead girl's face. She seems at peace. I lean over to her ear. I don't know what to say, but I know I should say something.

"You won't die in vain," I decide to settle on. "I'm going home."

A table begins to rise in the center of the arena and the boys begin to come down from the stands. The President's voice comes over the intercom with a maniacal laugh.

"Now, THAT, was unexpected." she says. "Find the envelope with your name on them, and go home." she says. "Today no one else will die."

I begin to walk over to the table when Paisley and Dianna ambush me. "Oh my gosh," they say in unison. "Are you okay?"

"I'm all right," I say sadly. "I just want my letter."

We walk to the table and find the letters with our name on them. It is then I see that only 10 of us are left in this game. This is real now. I have a shot at actually making it.

"Come on," I tell them. "Let's head back to the mansion."

* * *

 _Yes, day 3 was one of the hardest in these games. You saw the death of innocence. You saw the end of tributes. You saw the world crashing down around people. Life was draining from their eyes as the reality set in on their list of nevers._

 _They would never get married. Never get to hold their baby in their hands. Never get to experience what it is to love someone with all of their heart. Day 3 was the worst in the games, but we still have a few more to go._

 _Until next time,_

 _Anonymous_

* * *

 **Holy crap. I'm not even sure what just happened. No one I planned to kill was killed, and a couple of my top 5 is now dead? So like, what the hell am I doing?**

 **This chapter was a lot of death for a number of reasons. One, starting summer classes where I will be taking two, and I want to at least be ready for Crash Landing when my semester starts later. Two, I felt like a big dramatic chapter.**

 **Eulogies**

 **16th Place: Domnick McKnight, Southern Male, Killed by Ryan Lambert:** I'm not sure what compelled me to write this, but when I was finally able to write this morning it just felt right. Domnick wasn't a bad character, but I feel he faded into the background a bit behind Dianna, Paisley, and Zoya. He was a good guy, he was a little hot headed and weird, but a good guy. He was smart, and I figured the only way this guy didn't win was if he died on accident. RIP

 **15th Place: Ryan Lambert, Western Male, Killed by Dianna McKee:** After Ethan died I thought I could give Ryan a cool arc, but then I realized it wasn't as good as I thought. Ryan was a strong character, but he was heavily dependent on Ethan to succeed. I enjoyed their relationship, but it had to end a bit early. Like I said, it's been hard picking who dies. Also, Haley, friend, we've talked, but you kind of disappeared. I still love you though.

 **14th Place: Jemmy Gilbert, Western Male, Killed by Marshall Clyde and JJ Brooks:** Awe, Stella, I'm sorry. I know you loved Jemmy. Truth be told he was fun to write for, and his relationship with Sloane was fun, but I needed a male death and when I looked at what I had planned he was the most expendable. I'm so sorry for this, friend.

 **13th Place: Roman Darmadi, Southern Male, Killed by Bentley Gagnon:** Anna, I just realized that all of your tributes you've ever subbed are killed in my feast like thing. I'm so sorry. Roman was strong, but after other plot lines started falling in I, couldn't figure out a place for the arc I had for him. He was a good character, I wasn't exactly a fan of him personally but I hope you don't hate me…

 **12th Place: Luna Koski, Eastern Female, Killed by Aubrey Sabin:** I won't lie, Aubrey was supposed to die here, but then I figured out something cool, and I was excited, but DAMNIT I LOVED LUNA. Everyone of you were absolute haters, but she was great. She was a interesting character with sociopathic tendencies. She wasn't OP because she was willing to kill. None of the people she came into contact other than maybe Bentley had were in for something that serious. She freaking stabbed someone in the face 13 times because they imposed on her turf. She was beautiful 10/10. It was just her time.

 **11th Place: Miranda Chang, Western Female, Killed by Zoya Heda:** Zoya killed someone, what? I liked Miranda, but Pi you kind of fell off the map. Miranda had a lot of plans, but when people aren't showing me they're reading I loose motivation for their characters. This isn't me being snarky. It's just me being truthful. I liked that she was so different though. She was definitely fun to explore while I had the chance.

 **Congrats to the submitters of Dianna, Paisley, Davantae, Sloane, Zoya, Marshall, JJ, Leilani, Bentley, and Aubrey for making it into the Top 10. It's been a pleasure writing your characters, and I can't wait to show you what else I have in store.**

 **REGION STATS:**

 **EASTERN:** Zoya, Leilani, JJ, and Bentley

 **MIDWEST:** Dianna, Davantae, Aubrey, and Marshall

 **WEST:** Sloane

 **SOUTH:** Paisley

 **Alliances:**

 **Bad-Ass Girl Group:** Paisley/Zoya/Dianna

 **Are they still a thing?** Bentley/Davantae/Aubrey

 **For sure a thing:** Davantae/Aubrey

 **Pleasantly Awkward:** Leilani/JJ

 **Alone...for now:** Sloane/Marshall

 *****ANNOUNCEMENT: Later on today I will be posting the Prologue for Crash Landing. It is the third installment in my Over the Edge series. I will set deadline for a long ways away, but I hope to see you guys there!*****

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	22. Day 4

**This chapter is also revealing a lot, so be ready, fam.**

 **Again, uneven POVs, but like, I figure that's better than stuffing with fluff.**

* * *

 **Leilani Ku'uaki, 15**

 **Eastern Female**

* * *

I couldn't sleep. Not after what I just witnessed today. There was so much violence. So much hostility in one place. It's not something that I was every accustomed to. Even in prison, I was never one to push myself to those limits.

I never opened the letter from my family. My dad's handwriting is scribbled across the envelope, and I'm just not sure that I want to hear from him. I don't know what else there possibly could be left to say. He's not going to change his views; I'm probably not going to change mine. So we stay at the line in the sand. It's been glaring at us so long we might as well call it a family member.

I walk over to the letter on the coffee table and pick it up in my hand. It's 1:30 in the morning, no good choice is ever made at 1:30 in the morning.

I take a breath and am about to open it when a knock at the door makes my heart jump. I get up slowly and grab the silver candlestick that belonged to my grandmother off of the coffee table. I walk to the door and look through the peephole, but it's too dark to see outside. I take a breath and open the door, and see JJ standing there.

"Look," he says with a wild look in his eyes. "I know it's late, but my dad wrote me something in the letter that I just can't shake off." he says as he looks at me with a intense expression. "Don't be so caught up in the prison lifestyle that you forget to live, is what the letter said. I realized that I haven't lived, and, well,"

He grabs me and pulls me in, and for a moment it takes me a moment to realize that someone's lips are on mine. I keep my eyes open as he pulls away and looks at me with a scared expression. "I just thought that-"

I run my fingers through the back of his hair and pull his face forward. Our lips meet, but this time I'm ready to react appropriately, as I'm not caught off guard. He picks me up and we walk into the living room of my house and he closes the door behind him. We go to the living room and he sits me on the couch and then goes back in for another kiss.

"Wait," I say quickly. "Lock the door."

"Are you serious?"

"We're in a death match, and I'm making out with one of my competitors. Is that seriously a question you want to ask right now?"

"Good point." he says as he runs over to the front door and locks it.

When he gets back, he falls to me, and we begin to kiss again passionately. As I said, no good decisions are made at 1:30 in the morning.

I wake up to the sun shining in my eyes. To my right, JJ lies next to me tangled in the sheets of my bedroom. Our clothes lie in various places around the room, and I'm left wondering how the hell all of this happened.

I look over at the alarm clock that sits on my bedside table, and it says 8:00 am. We have two hours before we are kicked out for house restriction, and I don't know what's going to happen when he wakes up.

I see him start to stir and I quickly close my eyes pretending to be asleep. He runs his finger along my shoulder, and I pretend to wake up and see him smiling at me. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," I say returning the smile.

"So, last night, was, um." he begins to say.

"Impulsive?"

"That's the word," he says nodding. "I'm sorry if I ambushed you. I just, this game is messing with my head-"

"I kissed you back," I say. "Don't worry. You didn't take advantage or me or force me to do anything."

"Good," he says.

"So," I say awkwardly.

I'm not trying to be awkward I swear, I just have never really done this before. But, if you're going to die in a couple of days you might as well live it up while you can, right? Me taking this step was a drastic one sure, but one that I don't regret.

"I'll cook you breakfast," he says getting up from the bed and grabbing his shorts from the floor. "Eggs sound okay?"

"Sure," I say

"Good, because it's all I know how to make," he says matter of factly. I chuckle at his joke and watch as he leaves the room, and in a few moments, I hear him moving around in the kitchen.

"Wow, Lei," I say to myself. "You would find the only hook up in a mortal combat situation."

* * *

 **Sloane Disanto, 16**

 **Western Female**

* * *

Days like yesterday makes me realize how invisible I truly am. It seemed as if not one girl saw me when we were in that pit. Not one came after me; not one tried to kill me. I was just a number in the ring.

It sounds silly, me being insulted by not having someone try to murder me, but it goes deeper than that. Doesn't every weird feeling we have? I've never been extraordinary. I've known that. I've been blessed to have the best money could offer, and I was blessed by two incredibly loving parents, but I was never anything that made people look twice.

Until him.

He made me feel like I was visible. Like I was someone that mattered, and for a long time, that was all I needed. Because if I was enough for Liam, I was sufficient for the world, but relationships are fire. If they aren't tended, they sizzle out, and unfortunately for us, our fire was dwindling.

I told myself over and over that I would get him back, that I would know what it would feel like to be loved by him again. That when he looked at me, he wouldn't see right through me, but he'd see the girl he fell in love with, and now sitting with the letter in my hand written by him I can't bring myself to open it.

We haven't talked since the accident that got me into this mess. He showed up at a party and asked to speak alone. We were both drinking, and I was determined to get to the beach. But a drunk mind and a desperate heart don't make for good companions.

If trees were moving objects I'd say it came out of nowhere, but they don't, and it didn't. My car wrapped around the tree, and it almost killed Liam. I almost killed the man I loved. It was weird, but ironically the accident was what rekindled everything for me again. The accident was what made me realize just how much I actually loved this boy.

And in this letter will be the first time I've heard from him since I've entered prison. I never contacted him, and I never let him visit me after the incident. He had to tell me something that night, and I wasn't sure what it was. I don't believe he was going to break up with me, but what if he was cheating on me?

Or worse, what if he can't play football anymore?

That was one of his biggest issues in surgery. His right leg was completely crushed from the impact the car made with us. Not a single bone fragment was left not shattered, and the doctors said it would be a very long time before he could walk again, let alone play.

I teeter with the letter in my hands as I finally make a decision to open the envelope. My fingers tremble as I open the flap and stare down at the piece of notebook paper that has his familiar handwriting bleeding through the page.

I take a deep breath and pull out the letter and open it.

* * *

 _It's important to note, that though a italicized writing typically means you're hearing from me, the narrator, but that isn't the case with what you're about to read. This is an exact copy of the note that Sloane received from Liam. After the events that unfolded on this tragic final day in the arena, I went and looked at the camera footage that we had on this last day. After many hours of editing and manipulating the images, I was able to see what the girl read._

* * *

 _Sloane,_

 _You won't take my calls, you won't see me when I come to visit, and so this is the only way I can talk to you. Hopefully, you don't just rip this up, but maybe you'll read it considering that there isn't any face to face contact. Maybe it's better this way._

 _Sloane I would first like to say that the night of the accident, I shattered every bone in my leg. I'm not sure if you heard about that or not, but it's something that happened. I'm in physical therapy, and the doctors say that I'm doing great, and should be able to walk normally again. Unfortunately, I won't be able to play football again due to the extent of my injuries._

 _I do blame you. You were drunk, and you could have said no. I lost my future that night. My life, and even though I was drinking as well, I wasn't the one that got behind a wheel._

 _At the party, I had something essential to tell you. I never loved you. You were merely a means to get off for when me and my girlfriend Olivia were fighting. I came to the party that night to let you know after we graduated earlier that day, I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. We are planning on getting married as soon as I can walk again._

 _You see, I never loved you. I never wanted you. I wanted what you could give me. How ironic that you took everything from me._

 _I hope you get exactly what you deserve in prison,_

 _Liam_

As the letter falls to the floor slowly, gravity taking it where it may, I feel my heart skip beats. How could he say that to me? It had been two years of us dating. How could he just let me believe that he loved me like that?

Yes, days like these are where I feel truly invisible. Who am I anyways? I'm the girl that fucked her whole life up because of drinking and partying. I'm the girl that lost everything she had going for her because I wanted to fit in. I'm the girl that could be at Harvard, Yale, or Princeton, but instead, I'm the girl that even the United States Government thought was expendable enough to come into a death match.

I am no one.

My legs start to tremble as I walk towards the kitchen in my childhood home. I see the pictures of my family and me on the refrigerator as I walk by. I see the places at the kitchen table that we had all claimed as our own. The place where my lawyer set and told my sobbing parents and me that I would be facing jail time. I see the board on the wall that has my sister and I's measurements from the time we were growing up.

I walk to the center of the room and take everything in as I watch the memories of the invisible girl. Her life could have been a happy one had she just been okay with what she had.

I never wanted it to come to this.

I walk over to the place my mother would make dinner every night; I run my fingers along the board as if running my fingers along the cutting board will allow me to feel like she is there one last time. I take a deep breath and reach for one of the butcher knives in the knife block. I take a deep breath and hover the knife above my stomach.

 _It's important to note that the events that transpired after that moment are too sad for me to want to write it. Sloane did take her life that day. She placed 10th overall in the 2nd annual Hunger Games, and when her family found out about all of the games a year later, were devastated when the news of their daughter's death was released and how it happened._

* * *

 **Bentley Gagnon, 17**

 **Eastern Male**

* * *

That's it. I'm done with waiting, I'm done with watching these kids run around and mop all day, I'm done with dealing with all of the emotional backlashes from these idiots, but mostly, I'm tired of acting like I'm crazy.

I've had it with the United States prison system. I've had it with the idiots we elect into power, but most importantly I've had it with playing by the rules. I've never been one to do that.

There is a guard that is currently patrolling the street. I'm not quite sure why they have guards in a game like this. What are they going to do? Stop us from unfairly killing each other?

I follow behind the guard and walk slowly. They continue moving forward for a couple of feet and then turn to face me. To my surprise, it isn't a male guard at all, but a woman guard. She is small in nature and has blonde hair sticking out of her helmet. She gives me an ugly look when she sees me walking behind her.

"Is there a reason you're following me?" she ask me confused.

"Uh," I say slowly. "I need a favor."

"Aren't you the schizo?"

"Technically speaking," I say with a shrug of my shoulders. "But I'm not a schizo at the same time, you know? There's a lot of backstories, and quite frankly I don't want to have to explain it at the moment. So my questions for you, mam, is are you going to help me?"

"That depends on what you need help with." she says.

I got this idea back in the Colosseum murder spree we were forced to go on. What I realized was that killing by hand was such a dull and slow way to do things. We've been in this arena for four days, and all of a sudden we are still ten people high. I need this to go a little quicker.

So a solution? A bomb.

That's right; I'm going to use a bomb to blow up the remaining tributes. It might not be the big rising action that the President wants, but it's not like she can't call it an explosive ending, am I right? It's just the process of getting the supplies that I need. Also knowing what those are exactly.

We will explode just like Rome did.

"I need you to do an internet search for me," I tell her as she gives me a weird look. "I need information on how to make a bomb. But not just any bomb, a big bomb."

The guard looks at me with a conflicted expression, and then with an eye roll she pulls her phone out and begins to type in how to instructions in the search bar. She pulls up a screen with a giant list of everything I'll need and then looks at me sternly.

"Memorize it," she says, "I'm only showing you once."

"That is not a problem," I say as I scan the page frivolously taking in every detail. "I suggest you and the other guards stay out of the arena later today. There's going to be fireworks." I say as she pulls her walkie off her hip and presses the button.

"Medina to dispatch. All guards are to report out of the arena today. I repeat, all guards are to report out of the arena today."

* * *

 **Aubrey Sabin, 18**

 **Midwestern Female**

* * *

"I killed Luna," I say as i lay down in the woods under the trees we've made camp out for the entire course of the games. "I took a knife, and I stabbed it into her head."

"Calm down, Aubs," Davantae says, "It's not like Milky White didn't earn that shit. She went post apocalyptic on everyone's ass the second she walked into the arena."

"I know, Dav," I say slowly. "But that doesn't make me taking her life acceptable. We are in a situation where the worst is being brought out of us, and honestly, I don't know if I like what I see."

"Aubrey, you're ridiculous," he says plainly. Being rude and dismissive of my feelings. "There's no point in feeling this way over things we can't change. You did what you had to so you would survive. It's that simple."

"Don't talk to me like I am a child," I growl looking at him. My anger is flaring up, and my voice is getting more aggressive. He gives me a concerning look and then rolls his eyes. My blood is starting to boil.

"Don't say stupid shit then?" he asks in a questioning tone. "Don't talk to me like that either. I'm not going to baby you for doing what you had to do. You apparently wanted to survive. Leave it at that. That's all we are doing here. Surviving."

My skin begins to crawl as anger fills my body. Who is he to tell me how I can and can't feel. He's supposed to be my friend. He's supposed to be someone I can count on in this situation, but I see now that he's no longer a friend. Maybe he never was. Davantae is not someone I can stay aligned with if this is the way he's going to treat me.

"You know what, Davantae? I'm done." I say coldly as I get up from the tree and walk out of the clearing.

"What the hell you mean you're done?" he says as he gets up to follow me.

"Don't come near me," I bark. "I'm warning you."

"What the hell are you talking about?! You're running your mouth clapping back when we were having a normal conversation!" he says. "Now you're just getting up and walking away? What the hell, Aubrey? We were supposed to be friends."

I start seeing red as he continues to push me. My head starts to pound as I feel every vein in my forehead continue to poke out.

"Fuck you and your friendship!" I say as I run at him and tackle him. He falls because I caught him off guard, and I begin punching him in the face. I make impact with his nose, and I see his eyes start to roll into the back of his head as I continue to punch some more.

I grab at his neck and start to squeeze his throat when I see his eyes pop open again. He begins to struggle to try and get out of my grasp, but it's no use. I'm not budging. There's a pained expression in his eyes as he looks at me continue to choke him as he gasps for breath, and then I feel a sharp pain in my stomach.

I roll over and see a knife sticking out of my stomach. Davantae quickly scoots away from me, and I can hear him gasping for breath as he gets up and walks over to me. His face looks angry as he looks down to me, and with a cold expression on his face he opens up his mouth to speak.

"Aubrey," he chokes out in between deep breaths. "Nothing personal," he whispers. "Just surviving," he says as he picks up the knife from my gut and slashes my neck. Immediately I try to take a breath, but it's as if my lungs forgot how to breathe as I struggle the same way he did moments before. I look over to the forest, refusing to give him the satisfaction of beating me, and it's then there is a giant explosion that sends shockwaves throughout the neighborhood. One by one I see mushroom clouds appear, and at the end of the street, I wait in my last moments to see Dianna's house blow.

It never comes.

* * *

 **Paisley Grace, 18**

 **Southern Female**

* * *

"What the hell is happening?!" screams Dianna as we watch one house blow up after another on the street.

Almost like a domino effect, right after one blows, the one right next to it does. A little beach hut explodes, and we see two bodies fly into the air as they land on the concrete, unmoving. Another home explodes, and I realize that Dianna's house is two houses away from exploding right in the middle of the street. We run out of the house into the midst of the street, but the explosion never came. We continue to back up a safe distance when we hear a sudden snap, and see Zoya fall to the floor.

Dianna screams, and we turn to come face to face with the schizo.

"I'm done playing games," he says. "I'm ready to go home, and nothing is going to get in my way. Especially you two bimbos."

"Dianna, run!" I scream as we both take off in different directions. Bentley runs after Dianna and begins to run towards the woods as I see Dianna Spartan run at a fence and hop over it right before Bentley attempts to stab her in the leg. Through the dark smoke, I see the other half of the fence is gone, and she is running from the opposite side of the woods, and he is making headway after her. I turn around and see a guard walking into in Dianna's house, and quickly form an idea.

* * *

 _Something to know about Abigail Medina was that she wasn't supposed to be in the arena during the explosion. President Ophelia Veyne, once she heard about what Abigail had done, was furious with her. She forced Abigail to go back into the arena, and supervise the children throughout the rest of day._

 _The president had every intention of firing her, but sadly, or thankfully depending on what kind of point you see this from, that will never happen._

 _Paisley Grace had always been a real go-getter when it came to getting what she wanted. She didn't stop at anything, and it's widely why she was so good at stealing money from rich and powerful men. It wasn't until she came face to face with Deborah Jenkins that ended her little game so abruptly. Which was why Paisley was in this predicament in the first place._

 _As entered the McKee house, like she did so many times before she entered these games, she quickly covered the cameras to hide the events that transpired. We heard her apologize, and we listened to a big hit and a crack. We even heard zippers and buckles coming undone, but as you can imagine, with Bentley chasing Dianna and us trying to figure out if anyone was alive, we didn't realize Paisley's escape until it was too late._

 _Yes, what I'm saying is Paisley is the girl that was on the broadcast. Tahan helped Paisley escape, and to this day, Tahan sends money to Abigail Medina's family. Not that any person that participated in these games had any soul at all, but that day a husband lost a wife, children lost a mother, and someone lost their life._

 _I'm to emotionally exhausted to explain the rest of how this turned out in this entry. You will have to wait until I can write, but I warn you. Even with the end of the Hunger Games, our story is far from over._

 _Until next time,_

 _Anonymous_

 **I can't even tell you what the hell just happened because if I'm honest, I'm not sure myself. I didn't intend for this many people to die, but as I was writing it felt right to continue the style of these games, which was a bit rushed. This story has so much world building and things to discover about the future, and there is a tie in that I KNOW will blow your mind at the end of this thing (this goes beyond even crash landing). Because, well, frankly, this was planned since At Wits End.**

 **This chapter was intentionally a little rushed because well, that's just how life goes sometimes. You can't control it. One thing after the other happens, and suddenly you're in over your head.**

 **There is a lot of story left, and in two chapters we will have the victor. Congrats to Marshall, Dianna, Davantae, and Bentley for making it to the top 4. In this games, it wasn't easy.**

 **At my anon review who can't be bold enough to leave a pen name no one is forcing you to read homie. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out. Write 12 SYOT of 30 chapters and then talk about short.**

 **Eulogies**

 **10th Place: Sloane Disanto, Western Female, Suicide:** Allison, Sloane was amazing, but the girl wasn't a victor. She was a beautiful character to write for, and I really played on this depression thing I had building for awhile. All this girl knew was loss, and her choices were very self destructive. Unfortunately her final choice was the most destructive.

 **9th Place: Aubrey Sabin, Midwestern Female, Killed by Davantae Jones:** Cloe, I'm sorry I killed her. I loved Aubrey, I really did. She was fiery and fun, and I was happy with the relationship with Davantae that we saw. However, again with Sloane, she wasn't a victor. Aubrey's temper took a backseat for awhile, but I was assuming in my head it was out of fear of Luna. When Luna died, the beast came back.

 **7th/8th Place: Leilani Ku'uaki, Eastern Female, Killed by Bentley Gagnon (Explosion):** I feel like with this story there was a few characters that took a real back burner. I try to never do this, because well, you guys are the reason I continue writing. However, I literally EXPLORED for a place for Leilani to fit, and the only place I could find was with JJ, who similar to her, I didn't really see somewhere. I kept her around in hopes that I would figure something out, but I couldn't. Goldie, I'm so glad you gave me another chance in Crash Landing, and I hope I don't let you down.

 **7th/8th Place: JJ Brooks, Eastern Male, Killed by Bentley Gagnon (Explosion):** Like with Leilani, poor JJ didn't fit my plot. When I was getting submissions, I got him very early and was like "hell yeah, I can work with him," but as I started getting more I looked at the forms and said "That's my fire starter." "That's my antagonist." "That's my Victor." JJ never fell into that, but I wanted to give them SOMETHING because I'm a crappy person and I tried to make this work and I am SO sorry. Celtic thank you for submitting to Crash Landing. It's a honor and a wonder you still submit to me when I write this crap.

 **6th Place: Zoya Heda, Eastern Female, Killed by Bentley Gagnon:** Red if Lenovo hadn't have just won, Zoya would have. She was BEAUTIFUL. I loved her the moment I wrote her, and her incredible arc throughout the story. But like this chapter being hella rushed, Zoya died in a rush. Life isn't always a drawn out thing. I like to keep my writing as realistic as possible.

 **5th Place: Paisley Grace, Southern Female, Escaped the arena:** The chapter you read about the escape is Toby and Leilani's intro chapter. Paisley was a great tribute, and Jenna, though my girlfriend I feel has always been placed fairly where her tributes should be placed. When I wrote Paisley I was like "holy shit. She's fun." and I wanted to keep writing her, and then I realized that Paisley is PERFECT for the girl that I wrote third person about. It was going to be Dianna upon first plot, but it shifted. Surprised?

 **Thanks for the continued support.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	23. A Star is Born

**Dang, this has been a fun story.**

 **I wanted to address a complaint made by a guest reviewer.**

 **I write at my speed, and I write for fun.**

 **This isn't a real novel, so if you have a problem with the pace, no one is holding you here.**

 **Not trying to be rude, but like, I do what I want, and know what I'm doing.**

 **Anyways, here is the finale.**

* * *

 **Marshall Clyde, 17**

 **Midwestern Male**

* * *

Explosions are everywhere. Ash and smoke is flying everywhere, and I'm trying to find my way to the woods so that I can get out of the way of the rest of the tributes. I have no idea who is left, and how many people are still alive and kicking, but I assume if all of them were killed in the blast they'd at least let me know.

"Tributes," says the President's voice as it blares throughout the arena. "I need you to make your way to the Roman Colosseum quickly. It's time to get this thing over with."

I continue slowly moving through the smoke and ash, and I finally reach the end of the clearing as I begin to move forward. I start to run towards where the Colosseum is, and suddenly, I feel a body fall into mine.

"Ow!" screams a female voice as she stands up quickly and looks around. When she sees me, her eyes grow wide, and she starts to run again. I get up and stare at her as she runs, but then I quickly see what, or rather who, she was running from.

The schizo boy walks into the clearing with a smile on his face.

"Hello, long time no see." he says.

"I don't know who you are," I lie as I look him up and down.

I begin to walk towards the same trees that the girl walked through, but a knife whizzes through the air and lands in a tree next to me. "Damn," says the boy with a chuckle. "My aim must be off."

I stare at him surprised that he isn't waiting until we reach the Colosseum before he starts to attack, but before I'm able to say anything, another knife flies throughout the air, and it knicks me in the arm as it lands in the tree behind me again.

I wince as a pain shoots through my arm and reach down to touch the skin. Blood has drenched my hand as I pull it away from the wound that was just recently inflicted by the boy.

"No hard feelings, right man? I'm just trying to survive."

He runs at me full speed as I quickly take a step to the side. His arm wraps around my waist however, and I'm thrown backwards into the tree that holds the two knives. The boy is disoriented as he struggles to get back up, and I reach up and grab both of the knives from the tree trunk.

I take a few steps back and look down at him, as he is just now getting up. Damn it; I should have just killed him there. He looks at me and begins to clap his hands slowly as he walks closer to me.

"You aren't going to do anything." he says confidently as he continues to walk towards me. "I've killed 6 people in this arena. Of course two were by explosion, but none the less, I've killed more people than anyone else. Even that psycho bitch Luna."

He continues to make his way towards me slowly with a cocky smile on his face as he moves forward. He is standing face to face with me now as he continues talking.

"You don't have the balls-"

He takes a step back as the knife I just stuck in his chest is handle deep in his flesh. He falls to his knees looking at me flabbergasted as he sinks lower to the ground.

"No hard feelings, right man?" I say mocking what he told me earlier. "Just trying to survive."

As he garggles up his own blood I walk away from him, I see a smile flash across his face. His breathing is still heavy as he cough up blood, but I'm able to hear one thing from him before I walk off.

"I'm..free."

* * *

 **Dianna McKee, 18**

 **Midwestern Female**

* * *

Can I just say that running for your life is not as exciting as movies make it seem? For starters there is no moment to catch your breath or a timeout that you can stop and breathe. It's either you keep running or you get killed.

And then that freaking kid that's been nonexistent the whole games runs straight into me, and I for sure thought that Bentley was going to catch me, but with luck I managed to get away. Now, as I stand at the gate of the Colosseum with my back against the wall as I wait for them to open up the giant wooden doors.

The bushes in the woods start to buckle, and I brace myself for Bentley to make a reappearance. Instead, however, I come face to face with the boy that was with the scary albino girl during the feast.

"My name is Dianna," I say.

"Davantae." he says. "Call me Dav,"

"Well, listen, Dav," I say quickly. "Any second now, there is a boy that is about to walk through those bushes and he is crazy insane! He's not waiting for the Roman Colosseum to open, he's just killing people now to rush the games and-"

"Are you talking about Bentley?"

"You know him?"

"Yeah, he was with Milky White the entire time," he says with an eye roll. "I'm about sick of his ass, so if you need someone to step in between you two, I'll gladly take a stab at him."

A wave of relief fills my chest, but quickly starts to reappear as the bushes begin to move again. To my surprise it isn't Bentley that walks through the door, but the guy I ran into in the woods. His arm is bleeding, and he has a fiery look. He looks determined to get home, and suddenly I miss Bentley.

"What happened to you?" ask Davantae as he looks at him skeptically.

"I just killed the schizo." he says plainly.

Right as he says that the doors open up, and I jump at the sudden impact the wall has on me. I realize that the doors probably opened because all of the people left in the arena are here. As we all three walk inside, it dawns on me that 22 other people have died.

"Paisley is dead." I whisper to myself sadly as the realization that someone has been so good to me has perished in some place that is so dark and despicable like this. She wasn't perfect by any means, but she was still the closest thing I've ever had to a real friend.

We walk into the arena and head straight for the center of the Colosseum. We all just stand there looking around at each other until a voice comes on over the speakers.

"Tributes, it's now time for your finale!" says the President's voice in glee. "This time the rules are simple. There are no rules. You can do anything it takes to win. Good luck tributes." The voice disappears and we continue to just stand there quietly.

Davantae sticks out his hand to the boy to shake it, "My name is Davantae."

"Marshall," replies the kid quietly as he shakes it back. He then lets go and extends his hand to me.

"Dianna," I say.

"I just thought it was whack if we all try to kill each other and we didn't know what the others name is." says Davantae as he shrugs his shoulders. "Good luck-"

He is interrupted by Marshall taking a sucker punch to his face. Davantae staggers back, but Marshall has already begun attacking him again. He swings at Davantae, but Davantae has gathered his bearings and starts to dodge his punches.

"That was some chicken ass shit, man," he says staring at Marshall in disgust. "I was trying to do this shit with honor."

"Keep your honor," says Marshall with a shrug. "I'm here to win. Sit tight, Blondie," he tells me as he moves forward towards Davantae again.

I run up behind him and jump on his back. I begin punching him in his head, but it seems to do no damage as he lifts me off his shoulders and throws me to the ground. I land with a hard impact on the stone floor, and I hear a crack, and feel a severe pain in my back.

I let out a scream as my back pain only gets worse, and Davantae and Marshall both stop fighting long enough to look down at me. The pain in my back is unbearable at this point, and there's honestly no hope in winning right now.

"Dude, you're going to let her die like that?" ask Davantae. "She is in complete pain."

"Fine." says Marshall as he bends down. He leans close to my ear, and I can feel his breath on my cheek. "I'm sorry it came to this, sweetheart." A swift pain in my neck comes and goes, and suddenly the pain in my back is the least of my worries as my lungs beg for oxygen.

I gasp for breath over and over, but nothing ever comes. I continue to try and breathe, but realize that I'm fading fast.

Before my eyes go completely blurry, I look up at Davantae and mouth the word "win." Then everything goes black.

* * *

 **The Victor**

* * *

Had you told me that I would be sitting here four days ago, I'd have laughed in your face. Standing next to the only other person in this whole arena that is left alive is crazy, but also a little saddening.

Yes, I've the opportunity to go home. Yes, I've the chance to wrong every right I've ever done. "Yes, that money will come in a lot of handy back home. But at what cost does all of this come with?

We both watch as the final trace of life drains away from Dianna's eyes. It's at that moment I know I have to win. I've come to far, and far to many people have had to be left behind, to lose at this point.

"Are you ready?" asks my opponent as he cracks his knuckles. "Let's get this over with."

We begin to circle each other, and I was the first one to make a move, lunging at him. He falls to the ground, but is able to wiggle out of my hands before I'm able to get ahold of him. He looks down at Dianna's dead body and sees the knife lying next to her, and almost at once we both take a nosedive to get ahold of the knife that just killed the last female in the arena.

He manages to get ahold of it first, and sticks the knife in my hand as I try to get up quickly. I scream out in pain as he uses this opportunity to get on top of me. He manages to pin my right arm under his knee as I continue to try and wiggle my way out of his grasp. It is then that I notice the cut in his left arm, and I reach up and stick my finger in it.

He screams and jumps off of me, and I hear the knife's blade make a noise as it falls to the stone floor. I pick it up, and slash at the boy's neck, but he does a somersault out of the way still holding his arm.

As a last resort, I take the knife and hurl it in his general direction, hoping that it will make impact with the boy's body.

To my luck, the knife lands in the boys lower chest. He screams as he falls to the ground, and blood shoots out of his mouth as he begins to cough. I stand at a distance and watch as he starts to fade, and then he looks at me.

For the first time in this arena, I don't see the people as a group of criminals. I don't see the survival aspect of this game anymore. This game was something that never should have happened. These people that perished in this arena, though we all made bad choices, didn't deserve to die in this way.

At this moment I realize just how much the justice system failed me.

"Congrats." he manages to choke out as his head tilts to the side, and his eyes are left wide open.

"CONGRATS TO DAVANTAE JONES! VICTOR OF THE SECOND ANNUAL DEATH MATCH!"

 **Well, this was rather crappy. I was planning on updating today, and then I had so much school work, and then I took an allergy medicine but it made me hella sleepy. I had a lot of people message me to post this though, so here it is. I'm sorry if it is the worst.**

 **Eulogies**

 **4th Place: Bentley Gagnon, Midwestern Male, Killed by Marshall Clyde:** Tigress, I know you're crushed right now. Bentley was such a good character, but from a very early point in this game, I knew the winner was going to be Davantae. I can't explain why I didn't see Bentley as a victor. Something with me just never really clicked with him as a winner. I couldn't see his story progression. BUT HE WAS A HELL OF A PLOT DRIVER HERE! So thank you for submitting. I appreciated it.

 **3rd Place: Dianna McKee, Midwestern Female, Killed by Marshall Clyde:** Tracelynn, Dianna was great. I don't care what anyone else said. She was a fabulous submission and I loved her, but I can't explain it. With Davantae there was just a click when I wrote him. Dianna was such a fun character to write for, but my connection to her wasn't the same as with Davantae. I'm sorry she died, friend.

 **2nd Place: Marshall Clyde, Eastern Male, Killed by Davantae Jones:** When I first got Marshall I was excited. He was fun, and his form made him seem like he was going to be a blast to write for. I have no idea what happened from point A to point B, but he got lost in translation. I was able to squeeze something in for Leilani and JJ, and I hope that Marshall making final 2 is somewhat of a payback for sucking at writing him. I'm sorry, David.

 **Victor: Davantae Jones, Midwestern Male:** Ansley, this is LONG OVER FREAKING DO. After Ashlynn you NEVER sent me another tribute that I connected with. Davantae was a tribute that I connected with upon first writing his POV. I enjoyed his language and the way he talked so much that I just really enjoyed writing him. I wrote Luna so much so I could have little moments from him. I didn't want to make it seem like I was picking him as Victor so early even though I did. Congrats on Victor number 2. You've earned it dude.

 **There's still much more to tell.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	24. Two Can Keep a Secret

**This chapter will answer the number one question I've gotten the whole story.**

 **Lowkey sad that this part of the mystery will be over.**

 **If I planned correctly, there will be three more chapters.**

 **We will also catch up to the point of where they were in the one year later flashback.**

 **You'll get it when you read...hopefully.**

* * *

 _This is my last entry as the narrator. This has been an emotional ride, and I know that deep down, I've done the right thing. Around me, the changes being made for the Districts and these new rules are being more and more constricting. It's left people like me to go into hiding._

 _In District 4 there is a hidden lagoon that is underground, directly under the marketplace. Here we have black market trades and discuss the American lifestyle from back in the day. Everyone here shares my beliefs, so it's okay for me to write in public now. The freedom has been truly, well, freeing._

* * *

 **Davantae Jones, 17**

 **Victor of the Second Hunger Games**

* * *

I wake up in a hospital room with monitors flashing all around me. There is security everywhere, and doctors and nurses are moving feverishly throughout the room. One of the nurses sees that I am now awake and instantly has a smile on her face. She nudges the Doctor next to her, and he looks over at me with a great big smile.

"Hello, Davantae," he says smiling. "How do you feel?"

My throat is hoarse, and when I try to speak, and instantly start coughing. How long have I been out of it?

The nurse hands me a glass of water from the nightstand, and I drink it greedily. I chug the whole cup in about 2 seconds, and then hold it out for me. She goes out into the hallway and grabs a pitcher of ice water and pours some more into the cup. We repeat this process about three more times before my throat is feeling somewhat healthy again.

"How do you feel, bud?" asks my doctor in an enthusiastic tone.

"How long have I been out?"

"Four days." says the doctor.

"Four days?! What the hell happened?!"

"That's the thing," says the doctor. "You were brought here by a team of mountaineers. You were mumbling something about people killing each other, but you were running a 103 fever and had a pretty severe infection on the bottom of your foot. What were you doing in the mountains son?"

"I was in the mountains?" I ask confused. "When? The last time I was awake I was at a Roman Colosseum, and I had just-" I stop because openly admitting to murdering someone is not something that flies in any country. Let alone the United States.

"You had just what?" ask my doctor.

"Nothing, that fever really must have gotten to me," I whisper.

Someone clears their voice from the doorway of my room. Standing in the door is Tahan. She wears a bright blue romper with lace sleeves. She walks into the room and mumbles something into the doctor's ear. He nods, and he moves motions for the hospital staff and security to leave the room. Tahan walks over to the corner of the room and pulls up a chair and sits it on the side of my bed.

"Hey,"

"A foot infection?!" I say urgently. "What the hell, Tahan?!"

"Same thing happened to me last year," she says. "The security is here because you were found on the President's family's mountain property. They placed you there, and well, you can imagine the rest, Davantae."

I _can_ imagine what came next. I guess the length that this woman would go to hide her wrongdoings. I can believe the lengths that the country would go to if they knew about her little extracurricular activities.

"I want to tell," I retort as I stare at the wall straight ahead of me. "The other kids didn't deserve to die. 23 people will never get to see the light of day again, and I can live. People deserve to know-"

"Davantae," says Tahan as she places a hand on my arm. "You can't tell. Ophelia Veyne is not someone you react too impulsively. It's a long game. A long and trying game. There are so many pieces that you have to consider, and so many pawns you need to take down before you take a stab at the Queen."

Tears begin to well up in my eyes as I listen to her speak, because I know she isn't lying. I know that if I need to make any actions against the President, it needs to be calculated, but I'm mad, and I'm hurt. I want her to feel the same pain that I feel when I think about her. She needs to suffer. She needs to pay for what she did.

"If it's any consolation, only 22 perished in the arena," she whispers almost silently. I don't know if I was intended to hear it.

"Wait," I say as I begin to get a stuffy nose. I sniffle as I wipe it with the back of my hand. "What do you mean?"

She looks around the room slowly and then leans closer to me. She picks my face up and begins to kiss me, and I stare wide eyed at her shocked. "Just go with it please," she whispers as she continues to kiss me and begins to kiss down towards my neck.

"Paisley got out of the arena. She snuck out as a guard, and is on the way to Saudi Arabia."

I tilt her chin back up to mine and begin to kiss her lips again. "What? Why there?" I ask. It's actually really awkward to talk and kiss someone at the same time, but I've come to the conclusion that she kissed me so the President wouldn't bother listening to this part.

"She has an errand to run. She's the first pawn to get rid of the Queen's defense," she says. "Resistance is rising," she says as she pulls away and strokes my hair. "I'm going to help as much as I can," she says as she bends down and kisses me on my forehead. "I'll be back later."

She walks out of the room and turns down the hallway. The security team walks back in, and one of them chuckles and points to his neck. I put my hand up to mine and see that Tahan left some lipgloss from our conversation. I wipe it off and blush.

"What can I say?" I say to the man that continues to chuckle. "She couldn't keep her hands off of me."

I just hope that whatever Tahan is doing, she knows how to make it happen. She's the only other person that knows what I'm going through, and I want to continue to be able to talk to her.

The kissing wasn't half bad either.

* * *

 **-1 Year Later-**

* * *

"What was going on in the arena last time you were there?" ask Tahan as we are pulling out from the President's driveway. "It's stupid to continue these games at all now that these bombs are going off, but she can continue to be psychotic. Her choice I suppose."

"Ashley and Kieran were in the final 2," I say as a shiver shoots down my spine. I can still hear the crack of Dianna's back, and I can still see Marshall lying on the ground dead. They haunt me almost every night in my sleep.

Tahan takes my hand and smiles. "Babe, it gets easier. I promise."

"That's easy for you to say, Barbie," I say with an eye roll. "You're like a wonder woman at suppression."

"Well, we all have our gifts," she says quickly pulling away her hand from mine. I long for it to be back, but I know she's upset, so it's going to be awhile before I get to hold her hand again. The driver stops, and we hear him begin to order some Chicken McNuggets from McDonald's from the driver's seat.

"McDonald's would be open when the entire country goes into flames," says Tahan with an eye roll. "Make it a large!" she screams as she bangs on the back of the van. We decided to sit back here so we wouldn't have to have small talk with the security team.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm still not over the fact how many people Ashley had killed. When they picked me up from the prison, she was looking for him. She reminded me so much of Luna."

She sticks her hand back out and grabs mine and scoots closer to me. She puts her head on my shoulder and begins to breathe slower. She's under a lot of stress right now. I know that she would rather do anything else than this, but she and I are the front line of a revolution we aren't leading.

The phone rings, and she instantly picks it up to answer it. "Hello?" she says as she picks her head up from my body. "Yes, this is her?" she says as she looks at me confused, and then turns the phone on speaker.

"Hello, Tahan," she says. "We've been mostly communicating through Paisley, but my name is Imogen Mercay. I'm the person that is leading the charge against the nasty woman you call a President."

"Hello, Ms. Mercay," she says shocked. "Uh, how can I help you?"

"You and your boyfriend need to make your way to Saudi Arabia. Sweetheart, I know you like shorts, but dress to impress their culture. I've arranged for tickets to be dropped off at your house, Tahan. You leave tomorrow evening."

"How will we get out of the country? I can't imagine planes are working right now," Tahan begins.

"You just leave that to me," says Imogen. "You just show up."

* * *

 _And just like that, we are one step closer to finding out how we ended up in this place. As I watch the community of our underground group thrive, it gives me hope that maybe this new country isn't as bad as we've seen-_

I set my pen down as a sound fills the air that we shouldn't hear down here. It sounds like explosions.

"EVERYONE RUN!" screams a man as he runs towards the back entrance of the lagoon. People swarm all around, and I'm thrown to the ground by an elder man and his wife as they push past everyone. The journal that holds my story is flung into the water, and I can't leave it there. I run over to the lagoon and dive into the water, frantically searching for the journal. I feel the square shape under the water and grab ahold of it.

I come back up for air as another explosive goes off. I hear footsteps as they begin to storm down the cave front to get to the lagoon. I look around desperately for a place to hide and then notice a rather large rock that almost resembles a cage. I swim over to it and climb my way into it right as the guards begin shuffling through.

"Only thing we can find is a pen, mam." says a soldier as they are looking around the lagoon. I pause as I look inside of my purse, and see that the pen that I've been writing this story with is no longer in it.

The pen that says my name, and former occupation.

I peek through one of the holes in the cage rocks and see Imogen Mercay herself walking towards the soldier with a fierceness about her. She takes the pen out of his hands and then begins to laugh.

"Kate Felix, Secretarial Assistant to President Ophelia Veyne. I should have known you wouldn't have played nice, Kate," says Imogen as she looks around the room. "There obviously isn't anyone in here anymore. Clear it out and have two Peacekeepers standing by at all times. I don't want this place utilized."

"Yes, Madame President."

"Also, find Kate Felix. She and I have so unsolved business to attend to.

 **Yay!**

 **So are you surprised? Yikes right, tough break Kate!**

 **Now the time period I'll mostly be writing in is the time period that they were in the van. Kate will have some story too, but she is still acting narrator. There was just a time jump from the time of our games, to the time of the third one that happened.**

 **Notice any names from Crash Landing? :D**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	25. Saudi Arabia

**Tahan Jacobs, 20**

 **Victor of the First "Unofficial" Hunger Games**

* * *

Imogen wasn't kidding when she instructed us just to show up, and she'd take it from there. She is a compelling woman. I've always dreamed of having that much power. Can you imagine being a wanted criminal in the most powerful country on earth, and still have this much pull?

The plane ride itself is something relatively new to me, especially sitting up here in the first class. I have a lounge chair all to myself where I can stretch out and lay down in the seat. It's a bed.

Davantae sits in the little nook right next to me curled up and asleep. He was nervous about flying, but then I reminded him that even though he doesn't remember it, he had to fly to get to the prison last year.

In the end, I just gave him a sleeping medicine, and he knocked out the second his head hit the airline pillow.

I wonder what it's like in Saudi Arabia. I've never been to another part of the world. I never really saw a reason to go outside the fact that maybe I could get out of the four trapping walls that are suburbia and all she has to offer. Which sadly she doesn't have that much.

When the wars started countries began to close their doors to the United States. We already had bad relations with Saudi Arabia from a long history of wars and violence, so the fact that the downfall of the country is coming from there is a little humorous.

The truth of the matter is, it wasn't safe for Americans to travel the world because of the leadership that we were bestowed with. And now I'm ready to change everything. Or, at least help change everything.

"Passengers, we will be arriving in Saudi Arabia in about 15 minutes. Please take this time now to use the bathroom, and to finish whatever activity you're doing." says the flight attendant over the intercom. "Have your passports ready, as the government has gotten very strict, and have your bags ready to go."

Davantae wakes up and stretches his arms over his head. He smiles at me as he glances over and sees me in my little nook. "Good morning, babe," he says as he yawns. "How did you sleep?"

"I didn't," I say with a grin. "I've been too excited."

The flight attendants begin to walk around and collect the trash from the different passengers, and we are told to buckle up because the plane will be landing soon. My ears start popping as I feel the elevation begin to drop.

When the plane lands, it takes us about 20 minutes to file out of the first-class section of the aircraft, and by the time I'm on firm ground again, I can almost kiss it. I liked flying, but being in the air for so long just wasn't something that is ideal for a person such as myself.

The first thing I notice when I step into the airport is the intense heat. Even inside the building, the air conditioning cannot mask the hot air seeping into the airport. We walk into the lobby to collect our baggage, and see a sign that reads " _Tahan and Davantae."_

Davantae grabs our baggage, and I make my way through the crowd of people and walk to the guy with the sign. He smiles as he sees me approach, and extends his hand for me to shake.

"Hello, Ms. Tahan," he says. "My name is Reshaim. I am your driver today. We will take you to Ms. Imogen."

"Thank you," I say with a nod as I gesture towards Davantae. "This is my boyfriend, Davantae. We are excited to be here."

He gestures for us to follow him, and we make our way through the airport weaving in and out of the way of people that are running around trying to make their flight. The fact that everyone is being excessively busy and running around only adds to the heat that we have to endure.

If I thought the airport was out, that was nothing compared to the sun the second we stepped out of the airport. The driver walks us over to a limo, and I smile as he opens up the backdoor and takes our bags from us and puts them in the trunk.

The air conditioning is on in the limo, and because of the tint of the windows and the cold air, we are finally getting some relief from the heat.

"Well, we will be arriving in swag," says Davantae with a smile. "Have you ever kissed someone in the back of a limo, babe?" he says with a boyish grin.

"Not the time, Tiger," I say with a chuckle. "But to answer your question, yes."

"Wait, what?"

"Different time, different story," I say. "What do you think she wants with us? I don't want to say that I'm nervous, because I'm not, but I'm not-not skeptical. You know?"

"No, I understand completely," he says. "All we can hope is that she listens to us and what we think needs to happen. We don't want to destroy our country. We want to end the President's reign."

I pause as I look at him with confusion. What does he mean we don't want to destroy the country? That's exactly what I want to do. I want to get rid of the country that has caused me so much grief. I want to get rid of the country that is corrupt and allows children that are in rehabilitation to kill each other. I want to get rid of the country that has us having to fight for our fundamental rights of privacy, and control over our own futures.

I want to rid the world of the poison that the United States has become, and I want to reinstate in a new country, and a new vision that Imogen has in store.

"Right, Tahan?" ask Davantae skeptically. "You faded on me there."

"I don't agree with you," I say plainly.

"What do you mean you don't agree?"

"I want this country to end, Davantae. We need a new era. The only way to fix corruption is to destroy the corrupted area. We've been so wronged so many times by the United States, and it's time we finally take control over our destiny."

"Not in that way, Tahan." says Davantae sternly.

"We don't even know what she's going to say!" I retort. "If she wants to kill Veyne, and the entire political office that allowed that to happen to me, then so be it! I'm tired of always having to feel like I'm watching behind my back-"

"I will not sign up for this if we are killing innocent people."

"I WAS INNOCENT!" I scream. Tears start to well up in my eyes as I look at him with a pleading look. I want him to understand that I'm not a monster. But I wasn't supposed to be in here. I wasn't meant to be a criminal. "She made me guilty," I say as tear start to pour down my cheeks. "I'm the Frankenstein that she created, the prototype. I want this all just to end. I'm tired of walking down the halls of my house and seeing Madison jump out at me. I'm sick of seeing Maiya every night when I close my eyes. I just want peace."

"Ending the country won't bring you that, Tahan." he says softly as he extends his hand and lays it on mine.

I pull it back and look at him. "It's going to have to," I say sternly. Looking out the window, I see the different places that I never thought I would see fall away into a blur as the limo drives by. "It's going to have to," I repeat.

 **Okay, well, the next chapter will be the meeting with Imogen, and then after that will be the final chapter of this story.**

 **I have an announcement:**

 **Since my time of being on this site, I've been the target of a lot of hate. Whether that be through askfm, pms, reviews, even skype. I have grown tired of it, and it is with a lot of relief, but at the same time sadness, that I say that Crash Landing will be my last story ever on Fanfiction. After the initial submission process, I cannot promise that I will be around to reply to PMs. I also can't promise fast updates, but I can promise it will get done.**

 **I'm tired of the people in this community that continue to make it toxic.**

 **The Crash Landing deadline for submissions has been pushed back to July 6th.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


	26. Final Chapter

**The love I've gotten through PMs and Reviews is overwhelming.**

 **Thank you so much for that, friends.**

 **As for the hate reviews, I'm done acknowledging you, and I'd prefer my readers to do so as well.**

 **With that being said, I can happily say that I'm wrapping this story up this chapter, because what I decided to do during class tonight was 10x better than what I originally had planned.**

* * *

 **Paisley Grace, 19**

 **Escapee of the Second Hunger Games**

* * *

I sit in a big business room in the top of the tallest tower that I've ever seen. The room is all modern, and has metal surfaces everywhere. White lines the walls that makes it look almost futuristic, or like we are in a lab. It's the lifestyle that I was so used to before prison.

Now it all seems so foreign.

The first two people to walk into the meeting room is Tahan and Davantae. I haven't seen Tahan since she helped me escape, and Davantae and me never had any conversation in our times in the games. People being told they have to kill each other doesn't exactly open up the door to friendship.

Guilt shoots through me as I remember Dianna and our friendship. Yes, it was very short lived, but the friendship ran deep. I miss her everyday, and my biggest regret was running and not allowing her to help me out. I still don't know how she died to this day. I haven't been brave enough to ask.

"Hey." says Tahan they walk into the center of the room. I sit alone on a double seated couch, and she crosses the room and takes the seat next to me. "How've you been?"

I can't help but notice an awkward tension between the two of the people that just walked in the room. I don't know if they're fighting, or maybe they've broken up, but either way, something isn't right.

"I-uh, I've been fine," I say. "How about you guys?"

"We've been better." says Davantae quickly with a scowl on his face as he walks to the love seat that sits one and leans his head against the arm. "It's been an interesting trip. Some could even say eye opening." he says with a snarky tone directed at Tahan.

"You know what-" she turns to say, but then gets interrupted as the door open up and Imogen Mercay walks into the room. She is wearing a red business suit. It's powerful and really makes her more intimidating that she actually is.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she says quickly as she struts to the desk that sits against a window that oversees the city. "Paisley, always a pleasure, love. Davantae and Tahan it is good to see you. I'm Imogen Mercay. I'll be your ambassador for what is about to happen today."

"Yeah, about that." says Davantae, "What exactly is about to happen?"

"Well, I was getting to that," says Imogen with an annoyed tone. "We're waiting for one more person to enter the room before we have this little meeting."

"Who?" I ask confused.

"Me." says a male voice as he walks into the room. The voice isn't very deep and when I turn around and see the boy walking into the room he can't be more than 14 years old.

"Kieran!" says Davantae. "Hey, I was-"

"Sure that Ashley was going to overtake me? Not on my watch. The psycho got a few licks in, but her kill count ended with Leila in the top 3."

"Well, welcome, Kieran." says Imogen. "Please sit down, and let's begin this conversation. There's a number of things we need to talk about, but the first and most important thing that we need to cover is this: you are all victims. This country, our country, of the United States of America has wronged you all for the last time. Right now as you sit here, plans are going into effect, and tomorrow morning we will launch a movement. We will declare war on the United States and-"

"Saudi Arabia is already at war with the United States." says Kieran.

"We aren't Saudi Arabia." says Imogen with a smirk. "Children, we've created a new era. The country of Panem. We will have new boundaries. We will make the world a better place. Pollution will go down, farming and agriculture will no longer be an issue, world peace will be here. Everything our founding fathers of America dreamed of having, we will finally have. But we needed to acknowledge something."

She pauses and clears her throat and snaps her fingers. A young woman runs into the room, and the clicking of her heels echoed throughout the room as her shoes hit the tile. She hands Imogen a bottle of water, and then runs out of the room as quickly as she came.

"You're victims. The United States has wronged you." she begins again. "And because of that we wanted to offer you a moment to change something. Almost like the make a wish foundation. You will have one wish that we will grant. Within reason of course, and with your one wish we hope it can compensate for the damage and sadness you've had to endure."

"Anything we want?" I ask slowly.

"Yes, Paisley. What is your wish? What is your deepest desire that you've always wanted?"

My head begins to flood with ideas, and all of them were initially shallow at first, but I want to really make this work. I want this to count. This is important for me to get right. People like Imogen Mercay don't offer things like this regularly.

"What's the catch?" I ask slowly.

"There's no catch."

"There is _always_ a catch," says Tahan as she straightens herself and crosses her leg on the couch. Her presence and demeanor suddenly changed and is almost as intimidating as Imogen's.

"I just want to make sure you kids are taken care of. The thing about this new country is for the first year we will have a Hunger Games-"

"Absolutely not." says Tahan standing up. "We're done here, Davantae, let's go." she gets up to leave the room, but two men walk in with assault rifles and block the door. Tahan looks around at Imogen, and we all get a sudden burst of anxiety if this is how this meeting is being held.

"Children," says Imogen, "I'm attempting to be nice, but nice can only go so far. If you don't make this choice we will be forced to just assume you're loyal to the United States."

"What is going to happen to the country?" asks Kieran softly.

"We will take over it. It won't happen over night. We estimate a 6 month period. Texas will be the last state we take, and then after we will divide the country into 13 districts. Each of the Districts will be responsible for producing a certain good for the country. The Hunger Games will be for the politicians that okay'd what happened to you." she says shooting Tahan a look. "We will not allow them to do such a horrible thing to children."

Tahan's nerves unsettle as she takes a breath and looks around the room.

"I want to travel, and be able to see the world. I want power in this new country. I've been stepped on my whole life, and now it's time for me to have something. I want President Veyne to be taken care of, permanently, and I want to make sure that no one will ever be hurt by her again."

"The second we find her she will be placed as a prisoner of war." says Imogen calmly.

"She's in a cabin a few miles away from the white house," Tahan says. "It's not listed on GPS, but you can't miss it if you go airborne."

Davantae looks at his girlfriend with complete shock as she gives away the location of the president without giving a second thought to it. "What are you doing?" he asks annoyed.

"Doing the right thing," says Tahan sourly. "What you _should_ be doing."

"Killing innocent people is not the right thing!" screams Davantae

"She is FAR from innocent," screams Tahan right back.

"If you two are done, I would like to continue with this." says Imogen with a eye roll. "Tahan, I can make you an ambassador of our nation. You will travel to other countries and be able to assemble relationships with them for us. You will be a member of the cabinet with this position, thus giving you everything you asked."

"And Veyne?"

"Already has a firing squad to go in and take care of her as we speak," says Imogen with a smile. "About time that bitch got what was coming to her."

"I want nothing to do with this," says Davantae. "I don't want anything from you."

"Davantae, then you will be placed into Capitol."

"What the hell is that?!"

"Our main city. It's where the 1% will live."

He rolls his eyes and sits back in his seat. His eyes suddenly go big, and he holds up his hand. "I want my mother taken care of." he says. "Where ever that is, I want never to have to worry about money. I want my mom to have the best of everything."

Imogen smiles. "I'm glad you came to your senses son."

"Uh," says the boy named Kieran. "I want to hold some office position."

"You're 14 years old."

"You said anything." says the boy sternly.

"Very well, we will train you for an office position, and from there, when you hit the age of 21, we will announce your office."

"Deal." says Kieran.

"And Ms. Grace?" ask Imogen. "What is it that you want?"

"Other than what I already asked?" I reply slowly.

"Yes," says Imogen. "Anything you'd like."

My heart is pounding out of my chest as I look around the room and at the people who are silently staring me down. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and look at Imogen dead in the face.

"I never want another child to have to go through what I've had to go through in those games." I say. "I want them abolished after we put the people responsible for ours in the them. It isn't right to continue to do it."

Imogen gives me a smirk. "Very well, Ms. Grace." Something about her tone made me think that she is lying.

Imogen gets up from the desk and stares around the room. "Thank you for all of your help contributing to this new country. Your loyalty won't be forgotten. Good luck with your future endeavors. We will fly your families out of the country today."

She walks towards the door and lowers her hands, so the guards lower the guns they had in their hands. "I can tell we will all be a great team.

* * *

 **Kate Felix**

 **Year One of Panem**

* * *

I haven't moved from the spot that I've been rooted in since the Peacekeepers came and raided my safe haven in this awful new country. The Hunger Games, as the President has so honestly named them, have taken flight. I can tell from the outrage that I keep hearing from the market place up above me.

"Okay, Kate," I say calmly. "You're going to have to move sooner or later."

I stand up and try to climb out of the rock cage that I nestled in, but it's been two days since I last stood up. It's amazing what your body can do when you're scared out of your mind.

I fall into the water and begin kicking my legs to wake them up. I am able to get back to the shore, and I just sit there for awhile. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Everything was meant to be different.

I don't know what I expected writing all of that. The United States won't come back. I'll never be able to open state my beliefs again. I will never have the fundamental liberties of life, freedom, and the pursuit of happiness.

I'm a wanted criminal.

"No," I say defiantly. "This is not happening."

I get up and grab the book that I placed on the side of me. Walking up the steps of the entrance to the lagoon, I look around and see that a guard is on the side entrance but he is dozing off. I start sprinting towards the market where I see a little boy playing with his older brother. I run to the older brother and right as I get there I hear a gun sound off, and a pain shoots me in the back. The book launches forward, and the boy picks it up confused looking at me with shock.

"Hide. That." I say. "Change. The. World."

The boy picks it up quickly and hides it in his brother's backpack as the guards run towards me quickly. I smile at him as the life begins to drain from my eyes. "Good luck."

The world begins to fade, and I smile. Because I knew all along that I would die for this cause. Everything that happened was leading to this moment. This book is my redemption. My right for the world for the countless wrongs that I did in these games.

Though I'm dying, I'm finally living.

 **That's the end. This is lowkey the prologue to my entire series. Crash Landing will be updated more frequently starting tomorrow. So you need to get your submissions in pronto! It's due July 6th.**

 **Big thank you to RedRoses1000 for the rights to write this story.**

 **Keep it classy,**

 **Caleb**


End file.
